


non je ne regrette rien

by lazyboo



Category: Call the Midwife
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-28
Updated: 2017-03-11
Packaged: 2018-07-18 18:21:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 56,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7325617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lazyboo/pseuds/lazyboo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Modern AU - Patsy is a paediatric specialist on the cusp of her wedding.  She spots her long lost first love Delia on the train and her perfect life is suddenly in disarray.  Patsy is torn between the life she has now, and the possibility of rekindling what was lost.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ten feet and a world away

Patience Mount had so many regrets. A mountain of unsaid words and missed opportunities. A plethora of doubts yielded to and longings unvoiced. Of battles unfought. As she’d gotten older it was the last that grieved her most painfully. And so she’d taken a new approach to life - everything was to be challenged and won and held onto for dear life. And there was nothing in her adult life that she could say that she hadn’t striven for to her utmost, nothing that she could say she hadn’t worked her hardest to achieve. No lost chances she could reproach herself for.

Standing here, at the rehearsal for her wedding, she should be elated. Proud that everything she’d worked so hard to achieve was coming to fruition. But all Patsy could feel was an empty yearning. Her certainty, her assuredness, her plan for the future, had vanished last night. A fleeting glance of a figure on the tube station platform, and now her life felt as ephemeral as the breath she’d blown out into the chilly air this morning on the way to the church.

It was agony, standing here next to Lucy. Listening to the Reverend drone on about what they should expect and what would happen during each stage of tomorrow’s ceremony. Exquisite torture to look into Lucy’s excited green eyes and ponder what anguish to inflict. Patsy was going to hurt one of them grievously. Her silence would ensure her own torment. The truth would mean tragedy for Lucy. It was unthinkable.

 

* * *

 

 

She’d been exhausted, but glad to be heading home for the last time. Her colleagues had arranged an early shift, had somehow thrown together a boozy afternoon tea farewell. Undoubtedly Trixie had been involved in the organisation. She wasn’t sure who’d been looking after the patients, because it felt like every member of the hospital came with a hug or a kiss on the cheek, with warm congratulations and inappropriately familiar suggestions for ways to spend their honeymoon time in the Bahamas.

Patsy had finally escaped around half five, hurried to the station and collapsed gratefully into a recently vacated window seat. The air inside the carriage was thick with the smell of damp wool and muddy boots. Patsy had sighed, angled her body away from her travelling companions and stared into the flickering dark outside. Thinking not for the first time that it might be nice to let go of her idealistic desire to support the environment and decrease their carbon footprint - to actually get a car and not have to wallow in the malodorous fug of London’s long day.

The hot breath of several hundred commuters had condensed upon the windows, making it virtually impossible to see anything. As they pulled up to the next tube stop Patsy rubbed her gloved hand across the window - cleared a smudged patch just large enough to catch a glimpse of the station name. Poplar. Noted that there were still several stops until home when her gaze was arrested by a compact figure standing on the platform. Although Patsy knew it was medically impossible, she felt as if her heart had instantly grown three sizes larger and lodged itself painfully into her throat. Her breath actually stuttered as she stared in shock at the dark haired woman standing barely ten feet and a world away. She was vaguely cognisant of the doors to the carriage closing, of juddering into motion. As the train pulled away Patsy strained to looked back. Felt her heartbeat sputter erratically as blue eyes met hers for a fraction of a second.

Blood roared in Patsy’s ears as she sat, bewildered. Heart pounding, the noise in her head almost drowned out the announcement that the train was arriving at the next station. She blundered to her feet, tripping over shoes and knees, heedlessly knocking commuters with her bag as she stumbled out of the doors. Ran clumsily to the stairwell that would take her to the other side of the platform. That would take her back.

She just missed a train going the opposite direction, so by the time she arrived back at Poplar nearly twenty minutes had passed. Gasping for breath, cursing her inability to give up those stupid cigarettes, she practically ran the length of the platform. Eyes darting over every face, ignoring the looks of distaste and alarm. Of indifference. She walked the platform three times, heart sinking further with each step. Doubt creeping in like an unwelcome old acquaintance. There was no trace of the woman.

She sat on a bench for a long moment. Arguing with herself about what she thought she had seen. Or who, more to the point.

It had been over a decade since she’d last seen that face. It was possible that the woman she’d seen on the platform bore only a resemblance to that long remembered countenance. They would have both grown so much in the intervening years. Patsy knew she’d changed considerably since her time at school - not the least her hair, which was now a vibrant red courtesy of the dye bottle. She always felt that nobody took blonde doctors seriously. Not the female ones, in any case.

But those eyes were hauntingly familiar. As was the accompanying lurch in her stomach that transformed into nausea as she sat on the the platform. Doubting herself.

The nausea lingered through the train ride home, provided an excuse when Lucy questioned her pallor. Her reticence. Her withdrawal.

Patsy had refused to dwell on the past. Refused to entertain useless fantasies and what ifs. Refused to indulge in painful reminiscence and recollection. So it felt somewhat illicit now, retreating into the study. Opening Facebook, and with no little trepidation typing in a name she thought had lost its power over her.

Delia Busby.

 

* * *

 

 

The last time Patsy had seen Delia, she felt as though her soul were being cleaved in two. Delia had been bundled into the back of her mother’s sensible sedan car, her tear-stained face pressed to the window. Her expression an agonised portrait of pain and apology. Longing and self-recrimination. Love and helplessness.

Patsy had felt like she would implode - a furious turmoil of rage and agony tearing the air from her lungs and it was only that breathlessness that prevented an unseemly and damning display of sobs, of wails. Of outraged screams. That lack of oxygen that made it impossible to run fruitlessly after the retreating car. To beg Mrs Busby to reconsider.

As Delia had not.

Her winded gasps and reddened eyes garnered a disapproving look from the Headmistress. Patsy had straightened her shoulders. Back ramrod straight and her gait uncomfortably stiff. But she’d made it back to her room before she dissolved into a helpless mess. She’d given herself one evening of maudlin self-indulgence. One night of cuddling Delia’s discarded jumper, of breathing in the smell that was uniquely Delia. That somehow managed to be the scent of sunshine and sparkling eyes and warm, soft skin.

In the morning Patsy had stripped the bed linen. Placed her pyjamas and robe into the laundry, with her uniform. Thrown the jumper into the garbage.

 

* * *

 

 

According to Facebook, Delia Busby now worked in London. At a clinic quite nearby, as a matter of fact. Patsy wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or terrified at this revelation. It meant that she likely hadn’t been hallucinating earlier on the train, that her sanity was at least in tact. But it was stirring an uncomfortable array of emotions, buried so long and so deep that it was like a thick, sludgy cesspool of stagnated feeling. Feelings long suppressed and repressed and ignored and compartmentalised and now they were clamouring for attention and it was all just too much.

There was Delia’s latest profile picture. It was all disarming smiles and piercing blue eyes and the promise of…

There couldn’t be a promise of anything. That way lay madness. And heartache.

Patsy closed the tab. Powered off the computer.

 

* * *

 

 

It had been the promise of something unknown - of something forbidden - in Delia’s eyes, that had drawn Patsy to her all those years ago at boarding school. The Welsh girl had a smile that wouldn’t melt butter, that won her favours from classmates and concessions from teachers and special treatment from the Head of House. It was paired with the cheekiest, bluest, most sparkling eyes that Patsy had ever seen. And it was that dichotomy of sincere smile and mischievous eyes that broke through Patsy’s reserve. Distracted her from despondent rumination and allowed her to feel the warmth of human company. To seek it out.

The loss of her mother and sister had been still raw, the pain still gaping and fresh and fierce when she’d started at boarding school. Although it had been almost a year since the accident, she’d never really dealt with it. Her father, a veritable stereotype of the stiff upper lip British moneyed class, had kept her at arm’s length. Patsy had lacked for nothing, except his affection. She hadn’t been surprised when he’d taken an Embassy post in South-East Asia. She knew that he was removing himself from any reminders of his wife, of their family. She was hurt - so hurt - that he’d dropped her at her new school with barely a goodbye. But she understood. And she knew he expected her to simply get on with it.

And so she had, focusing on her studies and playing hockey and being friendly but aloof. And she’d succeed splendidly until one evening, carrying a stack of biomedical textbooks from the library, she’d literally run into Delia. They’d collided in the hallway, books had flown everywhere, and somehow Patsy had wound up on her arse staring up in disbelief at the prettiest girl she’d ever seen in her life.


	2. Whether 'tis nobler

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patsy grapples with what to do about Delia, and what to tell Lucy.

She’d been able to pass off her perturbed state the night before as nausea. Lucy had been concerned, but had given Patsy space to deal with the illness. They’d come to an understanding over the years of their relationship. Patsy, unused to being cared for in anything but the most hands off manner, couldn’t tolerate being hovered over. And her strong constitution meant that she’d never suffered anything but the most common, irritating viruses. So when she’d said that she felt sick Lucy had squeezed her arm. Kissed her forehead compassionately and left Patsy to her own devices.

Today was a different story.

Patsy couldn’t, in good conscience, lie about still being nauseated. She tried never to lie, as a matter of course. It inevitably just made things more difficult. But her emotional upheaval was impossible to fully conceal. She knew that she was withdrawing into herself. Knew that she’d missed things that both Lucy and the Reverend had said during the rehearsal.

As they exited the church, Patsy felt her arm being grasped. Was tugged off the path into a secluded alcove.

And found herself staring into concerned, quizzical green eyes.

 

* * *

 

It was Delia who had pursued their friendship in the beginning. Patsy hadn’t felt obliged to give the Welsh girl the time of day after Delia had laughed until she was hoarse at their first altercation.

Patsy, surrounded by textbooks and not a little bit sore from her unceremonious collapse to the hall floor, had cast an aggrieved glare at the girl who had knocked her over. Her initial assessment of the girl as pretty was rapidly souring. Instead of doing the civil thing and apologising, of offering to help, the girl had simply doubled over in gales of laughter.

Patsy had hauled herself stiffly to her knees, made a pile of the unwieldy texts. Clutched them awkwardly to her chest as she clambered to her feet. She’d shot an acidic scowl at the girl, and deliberately clipped her shoulder as she set off down the hallway to her dormitory.

Was three quarters of the way there when a belated apology finally reached her. Patsy had not deigned to reply.

The next morning a Snickers bar had materialised in front of her as she sat eating her porridge, nose buried in a book. Startled, she’d looked up into contrite blue eyes and a sheepish smile.

“Peace offering?”

It was the girl from last night, the one who had laughed herself silly at Patsy’s expense. Eyes narrowed, Patsy glowered. Silent.

“Look, I’m really sorry about what happened.”

Patsy couldn’t bite back her disbelieving snort.

“I laugh when I’m nervous, or shocked. I just don’t react in normal ways and I’m really sorry. I wasn’t actually laughing at you.”

She sounded sincere. Patsy looked carefully at the girl standing in front of her, noted her open, hopeful expression. Her blue eyes peered earnestly into Patsy’s and she couldn’t help being just slightly charmed by the girl’s gentle Welsh accent. Knew her own demeanour had softened when the girl grinned in response.

“I truly am sorry. And I promise I’ll be more careful around you next time.”

“Alright.” Honestly, she couldn’t believe she’d given in that easily.

“Great then.” A pause. “I’ll see you around.”

And see her around she certainly had. It felt like everywhere Patsy looked, the girl was there. She’d be on her way to the bathrooms as Patsy was returning after a shower. Patsy would catch a glimpse of her in the study carrels in the library as she searched the stacks for a book. She’d hear the unique cadence of her voice as she sat in the refectory at dinner time.

They weren’t in any of the same classes. In fact, Patsy rather suspected that the girl was in the year level below her, and yet she seemed to be a constant presence. It was most disconcerting.

 

* * *

 

 

Patsy had met Lucy at Pride a few years ago. Trixie dragged her along whenever she could - the blonde loved the spectacle of Pride, the opportunity to ogle acres of semi-naked, unthreatening male flesh. Patsy made it a point to attend every rally and protest for equal rights, had been there when they fought for civil unions and then for marriage. But the unbridled hedonism of Pride felt aggressive and claustrophobic and so it was only after months of wheedling and cajoling and outright badgering that she’d reluctantly agreed to go along with Trixie. It wasn’t often she could refuse her best friend anything when Trixie set her mind to it.

They’d meandered with the crowd after the parade finished, found themselves crammed into a tiny, rainbow-festooned pub that was almost literally packed to the rafters with queers of all colours and persuasions. The wait for drinks was ridiculous, and it was there, leaned against the bar and getting increasingly aggravated, that Patsy had met Lucy. She’d found herself sandwiched against a petite brunette wrapped in a rainbow flag - they had shared an irritated sigh, Patsy had caught the shorter woman’s eye, and they’d both chuckled.

Somehow, they’d hit it off. And by the end of the night Lucy’s number was stored in her phone and they’d arranged a date for the following week.

Trixie had been beaming with pride.

Now, standing in front of Lucy, outside the church in which they were to be married tomorrow, Patsy wondered how proud Trixie would be. Her mind was somewhere else entirely, her heart torn, her phone burning a hole in her pocket.

Patsy had no idea what to do. Or even what to say.

 

* * *

 

 

After shutting off the computer yesterday evening, Patsy had lingered in the study for a long while. Lectured herself about this ridiculous behaviour. The glimpse of Delia on the platform had thrown her much more than she would have expected. Her life had moved on so far. She was a different person, a stronger person. She’d worked hard, learned how to separate the useful and productive emotions and lock the others securely away.

And now one simple glance had managed to blow the door off its hinges and left her wallowing unprepared in a torrent of feelings that were anything but constructive.

But she was very good at stern talkings to, and administered a rather blistering one to herself now. And it worked and she calmed down and was able to rationalise the whole experience. To acknowledge that there were parts of her past that she’d probably need to actually deal with rather than simply pushing them aside. But not tonight. Not for a while yet.

She’d clambered into bed feeling much better. Snuggled up to Lucy’s back. Felt her fiancée relax as she registered Patsy’s presence, even in her sleep.

Had a peaceful night.

That peace was fractured as soon as she woke up the next morning and checked her phone. A notification stared balefully at her, even from the lock screen.

A Facebook friend request. From Delia Busby.

 

* * *

 

 

It had taken a few weeks before Patsy actually encountered the girl again. She’d finally gotten used to her seemingly constant presence around the school, felt like she could satisfactorily ignore the situation, when she found herself face to face with her amongst the library shelves.

They blinked awkwardly at each other for a long moment, before the smaller girl smiled. Tentative.

“Hi.”

“Hello.”

A strained pause.

“So… I didn’t mow you down this time.”

“No.” Her voice cracked, and Patsy mentally rolled her eyes at herself. Cleared her throat. “Do you make a habit of that?”

“What?”

“Knocking girls over.”

“Oh…” A delicate blush crept its way across lightly freckled cheeks, and then the blue eyes narrowed cheekily. “Not usually. But you never know. I don’t mind the idea of sweeping girls off their feet.”

Well then. Patsy merely gaped at the other girl for a long moment. Unsure of how precisely to respond.

The other girl smiled, before saving her from the necessity of a reply. “I’m Delia.” A small hand was held out, and with impeccably good breeding Patsy took it before she even thought about what she was doing.

“Patsy. Patience. Patience Mount. But everyone calls me Patsy.” Honestly sometimes her mouth just didn’t know when to shut itself.

“Nice to meet you. Patsy.” Her hand was squeezed gently, released.

“Likewise.”

Patsy watched as the shorter girl walked away. Finally shook her head forcefully to clear out the torpor that had descended.

Delia. It was a pretty name.

 

* * *

 

 

The friend request had been sent late the previous evening. It had a message attached:

 

 

> _Hi. This is probably odd, but I thought I saw you on the train earlier tonight. So I thought I’d look you up and I see you did become a paeds doctor. Like we talked about all those years ago._  
>  _There’s a conference coming up in a couple of weeks on OB-GYN that I’ll be attending. As a midwife. Will you be there?_  
>  _I’ve missed you._

It was so irrepressibly Delia. Patsy felt her heart drop, her peace shatter. This was now officially something she would need to deal with.

Glancing to the other side of the bed, Patsy could see that Lucy was still deeply asleep. It was stupidly early for a Saturday, but years of shift work and being on call had wreaked havoc on her sleep cycles. She slipped out of bed, threw on some clothes.

Sat at the kitchen counter with a cup of tea and just let it all wash over her.

_I’ve missed you._

A decade of regret and anguish encompassed in three small words.

It had been bad enough last night, sitting with her doubt and her pain and her lingering anger and feeling like she’d been hurled back a decade in time. Now… Delia was a very real presence in her present, no longer merely a ghost from her past. One that had the possibility to eviscerate her carefully constructed life, throw into disorder all that Patsy had striven so hard to plan and organise and regulate.

It should have been easy to deal with. Patsy need only delete the friend request, go back to ignoring the past. Shove those memories all the more vigorously behind that door and lock it with the sheer force of her mind.

But there was a part of Patsy - a significant part of her in fact - that didn’t want to let go. That bewildered, wounded teenager was still in there. And she wanted this. Wanted to meet Delia and confront Delia and find out what Delia had been doing all these years. Find out why Delia had never fought for her. Why she didn’t love her enough. Wanted to hold Delia and never let her go again.

Patsy was still sitting at the counter when Lucy arose some time later. Her tea was stone cold, and she was trembling with cold and grief and indecision.  A hot shower addressed the chill, but did nothing to assuage her uncertainty.

She pushed it aside though.  They had an appointment at the church.

 

* * *

 

 

In the churchyard, Lucy grasped Patsy’s hands. Chafed them gently to get some warmth and circulation flowing into chilled fingers.

Her green eyes bright with compassion. And wariness. And Patsy’s heart ached to see it.

Lucy took a breath. Sighed quietly. “Patsy… What’s going on with you? Are you… having second thoughts?”

Patsy had only a moment to decide. Could she live with herself if she turned her back on the past? Attempt to expunge her memories of Delia and focus only on a future with Lucy. Or was it time to confront it?

She owed Lucy the truth.


	3. Paying the piper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patsy and Lucy talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI I had to edit the previous chapter a little, for clarity.

Patsy took a deep breath. Mentally prepared herself for a conversation that she was entirely unsure of the outcome. Squeezed Lucy’s fingers gently before releasing them. Deliberate.

“It’s not… second thoughts, exactly. Something… no, someone from my past has surfaced unexpectedly and… it's thrown me for a bit of a loop, I’m afraid.”

Lucy looked at her silently. Steadily. Indicated that Patsy should continue.

“You know… you know I don’t bring up the past. I’ve always found it easier to just… move on. Move forward. I’ve never been very good at dealing with things.” A wry, humourless chuckle. “Well, it seems as though it’s coming back to bite me now.” A breath. “This… thing. This person… shouldn’t be affecting me this way. I’ve never had a problem just… leaving things in the past where they belong. I haven’t even thought about… her… until yesterday. Not in several years.”

“So what changed yesterday?”

“I saw her.”

Lucy’s eyebrows rose sharply, but she gave no other indication of surprise. Patsy was so very grateful that Lucy’s usual calm and measured manner was helping them both to get through this.

“I was on the train on the way home last night, and I just… saw her on the platform. At Poplar.”

Lucy grasped Patsy’s arm. Linked her own through the crook of Patsy’s elbow, and used the contact to guide them out of the church yard. Looked assiduously forwards as they walked along the street towards home.

“Tell me about her.”

 

* * *

 

 

Now that they were formally introduced, it seemed that the ice was broken. Several times a day Delia would call out a cheerful greeting, give a quick wave. Sometimes she’d even stop for a moment to chat. It was invariably something superficial - the weather (abominable), the chance of decent snow this year (not bloody likely), yesterday’s dinner (disgusting). But it was always sixty seconds of the day that Patsy looked forward to, that brightened the pall that had lingered around her since the accident.

One Saturday, Patsy was feeling unaccountably lazy and disinclined to tackle the mountain of revision that she constantly had to do to keep on top of her A Levels. For once it wasn’t raining, the sun even looked at though it might be brave and shine for a little while. Patsy grabbed her jacket and scarf, patted the pocket to make sure her smokes were securely hidden. Picked up her novel and a blanket and set off to find a sunny and secluded place to while away a couple of hours.

She was nearly at the door when a familiar voice called a greeting. Almost decided to ignore it, pretend she hadn’t heard. Searching herself though, Patsy decided she wouldn’t mind some company. It’d been ages since she’d had any kind of real friends to spend time with. And Delia was intriguing in all sorts of interesting ways.

She turned, saw the smaller girl’s cheerful expression. Threw caution to the wind.

“Hey. Grab a coat and a book. Come out and enjoy this sunshine with me.”

The immediate, pleased grin that stretched across Delia’s face was confirmation that she’d made the right decision. Delia fairly skipped into her dorm room, reappeared only moments later wearing the most adorable panda bear beanie, complete with ears and googly eyes. Clutching a book and a packet of chocolate biscuits and that really was the best thing Patsy had seen all week.

They walked into the watery light in companionable silence. Patsy had an idea of where they’d be able to find some sheltered sunshine and guided them wordlessly through the school grounds. As she suspected, the small lawn behind the greenhouses was catching the best light the day had to offer, and was sheltered from the worst of the chilly breeze. And no one else seemed to be braving the elements today, aside from the training going on out in the sports fields.

Satisfied, Patsy spread out the blanket. Sighed in contentment as she relaxed back with a cigarette and the sun on her face and the possibility of a new friend.

 

* * *

 

 

Patsy had not stopped talking during the length of their slow journey home. There was something cathartic about being able to indulge in these recollections, finally bringing that period of her life out into the open. It did get harder at the end - recounting the news that Delia was being removed from the school, that she wouldn’t be returning. That Delia’s mother was going to ensure they didn’t stay in contact.

That pain, that betrayal she felt at Delia’s lack of resistance, was still raw. Still made her throat choke up and ache to think about it.

Her tale petered out as they reached the front door, in uncannily perfect timing. It was only then that Patsy noticed how closed off Lucy had become. How still. She stood, facing the door. Key in hand, but she made no move to unlock the door.

And Patsy’s heart constricted. Already she could see the damage she’d inflicted on Lucy. On their relationship. She cursed herself for her thoughtlessness. Berated her lack of tact, of caution. Of consideration.

She should have moderated herself. Given Lucy the bare bones, the facts and figures. Not this rambling, self-centred narrative that painted no one in a favourable light.

She watched in pained fascination as Lucy drew in a deep breath. Sighed. Sadness radiating from every line of her body. Finally unlocked the door.

Patsy trailed her into the kitchen, watched in mute discomfort as Lucy filled the kettle, set it on the stove. Took down her favourite teapot (the TARDIS one that Patsy had found for her birthday last year) and prepared tea for them both.

Finally looked up and met Patsy’s eyes.

“You know… I’ve learned more about you in the last half hour than I ever knew in the last three years Patsy.” A pause. “That’s not fair.”

 

* * *

 

 

It turned out that Delia was in the year level below, but she was two years younger than Patsy. She’d been accelerated at school, the local in Pembrokeshire not really able to provide much in the way of challenge or enrichment in Delia’s education. Her mother’s uncle had died last year, and left the Busbys with a modest inheritance. And her parents had decided to spend the money on boarding school for Delia. Somewhere she could finish her GCSE and her A Levels and get into a good university.

It had been a massive change for a sheltered girl from a small regional town.

Their books lay forgotten between them as they lay top to tail on the blanket, staring up into the sky. Patsy would have preferred to be able to look over and see Delia’s face, but the Welsh girl had refused to come anywhere near her when she lit her cigarette. Flatly told her she thought smoking was repulsive. So they’d compromised by lying head to feet and Patsy reflected it was probably better that way. It was less intimate.

And because of that Patsy somehow found herself telling Delia about how she’d ended up at the school. About her absent father, and about the accident that took her mother and sister. It was the first time she’d talked about it to anyone. She bit back her tears (they were pointless anyway), and described things in the most clinical terms possible. But Delia listened to more than the words, and the warm, comforting hand on her leg nearly undid her.

They retreated back inside when the sun finally conceded defeat, when the rain clouds inevitably blew in and delivered their dreary payload. Delia walked Patsy to her dormitory door. Stepped in and hugged her, impossibly briefly, before disappearing back to her own room.

 

* * *

 

 

They sat across the table from each other. Patsy had suggested the sofa, but Lucy shook her head. Placed Patsy’s tea at the seat opposite. It was clearly not a good sign for what was to come.

The silence between them strained and somehow malignant.

But Patsy was struggling to speak. Couldn’t find the words that would make this right.

Finally, Lucy shook her head. Slowly. Lifted her gaze from her tea to meet Patsy’s eyes, and the usually warm green of them was chilled and bleak and Patsy had to suppress a shiver.

“I’m not sure what we’re going to do now.”

Patsy didn’t have anything to say to that. She had no clue either.

“Seriously, this is just about the worst timing in living history Patsy. We were supposed to be married tomorrow for god’s sake.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” Patsy stared across the table, the three foot gap feeling like a yawning chasm. That word - were - dousing her like an ice bath. She had to know. “When you say were..?”

“Well I clearly can’t commit my future to you right now when your past is… fucking everything up.” It was so rare that Lucy swore, her anger so palpable, Patsy actually shrank back into her chair. “If you’d told me about this before - any of it - we’d be in a different position. But now I feel as if you’ve concealed this whole other side of yourself and I just feel so… unmoored. You were my safe place and now you’re not who I even thought you were, not remotely.”

“I didn’t mean for any of this to happen…”

“I know that! You would have been content to just ignore it your whole life, I get that. But it doesn’t work that way. Eventually, something would have happened.” She shrugged. “Maybe I’ve dodged a bullet. Maybe it’s better that this happened now, rather than a couple of years down the track when we were married and having kids.”

“Lucy…”

“What?!? Tell me Patsy. What are you going to do now?” A pause. “What do you want to happen?

“I want for none of this to have happened. I want to go back to yesterday and to take the next train. To have never seen Delia.”

“But you can’t have that. The damage is done. We have to move forward. That’s your thing, isn’t it?”

Lucy was being mean and Patsy knew she deserved every bit of it. Could feel the tears making their way down her cheeks and did her best to ignore them. Took a deep breath to tamp down the sobs that were building deep inside her chest.

After all, Lucy was right. They couldn’t go back now.

“I don’t know what I want.” And she didn’t. Patsy was torn between the wonderfully comfortable life she’d built with Lucy - that would possibly never be comfortable again - and the prospect of something with Delia. There were no guarantees anywhere, no maps to help her navigate these paths, no signposts to guide her. Patsy was lost and afraid and it must have been obvious on her face because Lucy sighed. Threw her head back to look at the ceiling for a long moment.

When she looked back, her eyes were dim. Resigned.

“You’ll need to call everyone. This is on you, I won’t help you to do that.”

“What do you…?”

“To cancel the wedding.”

“Oh. Right.”

“It’s too late to get any money back now.” Always pragmatic. “But you can call everything off at least.”

“Alright.”

“I’m going to go on the honey… trip… by myself. I’ve taken the time off. After this I deserve to get away.”

“Of course.”

“And you’re going to spend the time dealing with… whatever this is. Understand? You can meet up with this woman and hopefully go to a therapist and just sort your shit out. For christ’s sake Patsy.” A pause. “I’ll be gone for four weeks. When I get back… we’ll talk. See if there’s a way to move forwards. But I swear to you, if you haven’t been to see someone and started to deal with this, then we’re done. Do you hear me?”

“Yes. Yes, of course. I’m so sorry Lucy, I…”

“I know. I know you’re sorry. I know you didn’t mean this. But it still fucking hurts. You haven’t trusted me, and now I can’t trust you.”

“I have trusted you!”

“Not enough. Just not… enough.” Lucy stood abruptly. “I’m going to repack my bags.” And she walked out of the kitchen. Patsy couldn’t help but feel like she’d just walked out of her life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads up. I will endeavour to post new chapters relatively frequently. However, I'm a teacher and school holidays are nearly over and so I can't promise the kind of regularity that other authors do. That said, I am quite into this story right now so I will spend as much time as I can (even time when I should be doing other things like I have all holidays! Those unit planners and SACs can wait right?)


	4. Where do we go from here?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trixie is there for her best friend.

Making the phone calls to all their friends and family… that was just about one of the worst experiences in Patsy’s life. But she owed it to Lucy to just get on with it. She’d started with Trixie - of course she had - and by the time she was most of the way through the list Trixie was there sitting at the table. Providing moral support and a friendly face.

When it was finally over Trixie had stood behind her for a long moment, hands gripping Patsy’s shoulders. Told her to wait there for a few minutes.

She’d come back about ten minutes later with reddened eyes and an overnight bag.

“I think it’s best if you come and stay with me tonight, sweetie.”

“But…”

“Listen to me Patsy. You’ll do more harm than good trying to talk any more about this with Lucy right now. She needs time and space to process what’s happened. As do you.”

“I can’t just leave it like this.”

“You must. There’s no room for any productive discussion here tonight. You come with me now and I’ll call Lucy’s sister. Make sure she’s got someone here for her.”

Trixie’s somber expression was a stark contrast to her usually irrepressible good humour. It was enough for Patsy to concede defeat. Walk numbly out of her home and into the looming unknown of the future.

 

* * *

 

 

The next time Patsy ran into Delia, she felt sure it was going to be horribly awkward. She hadn’t meant to talk to anyone about the things she had - least of all with a girl she barely knew. But somehow Delia’s warm, disarming smile had… brought things out of her. Her fears were thankfully ill-founded, however. Delia had seemed to sense Patsy’s discomfort, had smiled. And asked about Patsy’s hockey match the following weekend.

She’d really never met anyone like Delia before. When she was with the Welsh girl… it felt like Delia’s whole attention was focused on her. And only her.

Patsy was not used to that. Her father had always been distant, even before the accident. He was never a family man. And her mother’s attention was always divided between Patsy and her sister. It was natural, she supposed. One couldn’t expect a parent to devote their whole attention to only one of their children.

And so when Delia’s gaze was focused on Patsy, she felt… special. Interesting. Worthwhile. She felt like she was someone who could mean something to someone. It was kind of magical. And not a little bit addictive.

She found herself making excuses to drop by Delia’s room most days, finding the slightest pretext to ask her opinion or give her a packet of sweets or just… say hello. Delia didn’t seem to mind. In fact, Delia appeared to be reciprocating. She would sit with Patsy at breakfast time (although it was a bit scandalous to have a tenth form student sitting at the senior table), loan Patsy her latest novels as soon as she was done with them, poke her head into Patsy’s room to say goodnight every evening.

Patsy found herself spending more and more time with Delia - and when she wasn’t with Delia she was wondering what the younger girl was up to. Which was almost invariably studying, because Delia was one of the only other people that Patsy knew who was as determined to get top marks and get accepted into the best universities as she was.

Patsy had heard some of the other students (not entirely kindly) refer to them as a match made in heaven. Especially when they would stake out _their_ table in the library and spend hours after classes and before dinner cramming and revising and testing each other. Patsy knew her grades had actually improved since she started spending time with Delia, and suspected that the other girl’s had as well.

Sometimes, late at night when the dormitory was filled with the gentle and not so gentle sounds of teenaged girls in repose, Patsy would reflect on the possibility of them being a good match in… other ways. In private, Delia had made no bones about her orientation. She routinely joked about her relative position on the Kinsey scale - although she did sometimes mention that she hadn’t entirely ruled out having relationships with boys.

Patsy felt more than a little bit conflicted about it all. She saw how much time and energy the other girls expended on talking about boys and making arrangements to meet boys and looking good for boys and it was just all so very tedious. There were more important things in life than, well, boys. Or relationships.

But then Delia would smile at her in a certain way, and Patsy’s heart would thump erratically, and she’d feel a strange tightening sensation in her abdomen and she’d wonder.

 

* * *

 

 

“Now, tell me everything.”

They were sitting on Trixie’s settee with a bottle of red and a preemptive box of tissues.

And so Patsy told her tale again. Of the girl she’d loved and lost and vowed to forget, until fate (or at least the London Underground) had other ideas for her. Trixie probed gently, and she’d disclosed everything - from every tiny thing she remembered about Delia down to every last detail of her conversation with Lucy. She was hoarse with talking and crying and the bottle of wine was long empty by the time she was done.

“Oh sweetie. How horrible you must be feeling.” A pause. “I’m trying very hard to respect your personal space, but it seems to me you could really use a hug.”

“I don’t deserve your kindness.”

“Nonsense! You’re my best friend and it is absolutely my job to support you when you’re going through a rough patch. And this most certainly qualifies.”

“And I’ve brought the whole thing upon myself.” A strangled gasp. “I can’t bear to think about how Lucy is feeling now.”

“Patsy, listen. I know that you’re concerned about Lucy. But your whole life has been turned upside down. You’re allowed to be distressed and upset and you’re certainly allowed to be comforted as well.”

And so Patsy had dissolved into tears and let Trixie hold her. Until there were no tears left in her to be wrung out, until her chest ached and her eyes burned and she was just… empty.

 

* * *

 

 

It wasn’t until the Christmas break that Patsy seriously contemplated the possibility of… deepening the connection between Delia and herself. She’d been dreading the upcoming break, knowing that she’d be one of the few students staying on over the holiday. There was no point in going ‘home’ to her father’s empty house, he’d made it clear that he would not be making the journey back to the UK.

It was made exponentially worse knowing she’d be separated from Delia for over a week. It seemed an inconceivably long time.

In the weeks leading up to the end of term, Patsy couldn’t help but dwell on their upcoming separation. She was irrationally apprehensive that something might befall Delia while she was away. Secretly she was petrified that Delia might find herself reacquainted with an old boyfriend (or girlfriend). But she wouldn’t let herself think too hard about why that thought distressed her so much.

In the end, her worries were futile. Delia decided, and somehow managed to convince her mother, that the time wasted on the arduous journey to Pembrokeshire would be better spent at school continuing her studies.

To say that Patsy was ecstatic at the news would be an understatement.

She would have Delia practically to herself for over a week and the prospect was enticing and frightening in equal measure.

On the last day of term the school steadily disgorged its load of students - a cheerful chorus of “Goodbye” and “Merry Christmas” and “Have a great break” ringing through the halls and the grounds and so by the end of the day the muted noise of a dozen or so students seemed hushed and muffled.

The refectory was set with only two tables - students and the teachers who drew the short straw and were conscripted into supervising over the break. Patsy didn’t feel too sorry for them. From experience they stayed very hands off and allowed the students free reign to do pretty much what they liked.

The students all stayed up later than bedtime, arguing over what to watch on tv and devising a movie night schedule based on the DVDs that they pooled together. It felt almost like a large, rowdy family, and Patsy felt the pang of missed opportunities. Bittersweet.

When the teachers finally dispersed them for bed, Delia walked Patsy to her dormitory. Delia had been uncharacteristically quiet all evening, and Patsy was about to ask her if she was having second thoughts about not going home to Wales when Delia looked up at her. A determined expression making her even more adorable than usual.

“Patsy.”

“Hmmmn?”

“Do you..?” Normally loquacious, the fact that the younger girl was lost for words was enough to put Patsy on guard.

“Do I what, Deels?”

A shrug, a small sigh. And then Delia was raising up on her tiptoes and pressing a kiss against Patsy’s lips and…

Oh.

 

* * *

 

 

Although she had protested vehemently, Trixie insisted that Patsy take a sleeping tablet. It was late by the time they were done talking and crying and Trixie had, undoubtedly correctly, been concerned that Patsy would lay awake and fret about things that couldn’t be changed. So she’d stood over Patsy while she meekly swallowed the pill, and then practically frogmarched her into the bedroom and into the bed.

“Get some sleep, sweetie.” Had leaned over and given Patsy a gentle kiss on the forehead. “Things will look better in the morning.”

Patsy wasn’t entirely sure what dosage of medication Trixie had foisted upon her, but she did not wake up the following morning. By the time she, very groggily, focused her eyes on the clock sitting on the nightstand it was already quarter past two in the afternoon.

She had slept through the entire marriage ceremony - had it still been going ahead.

Once she’d gotten over her shock, Patsy reflected that Trixie had probably done her a favour by engineering it that way.


	5. Where you once belonged

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patsy goes back to work.

“I really must go back to work.”

“I don’t think that’s a good…”

“No, I must. I can’t mooch about the place for the next four weeks dwelling on things. I’ll go absolutely crackers.”

“Patsy…”

“Trixie please. You know me. You know that work is going to be the best thing to keep me steady through this. I need to be doing something productive.”

“I do know that about you. I also know that you’re going through quite a traumatic time, and you need to deal with that.” A finger, raised in warning, prevented Patsy from responding. “Not to mention the fact that you promised Lucy you’d see someone about this. Don’t think I’ll let you forget.”

Patsy heaved a deep sigh. The thought of speaking to a stranger about her emotional issues made her guts clench and her skin crawl.

Observant blue eyes caught the small shudder she couldn’t suppress. Widened in sympathy.

“Oh Patsy. I know you hate the very thought of seeing a therapist about this. But you really must.”

“Will you stop being so sensible?” A pause. “I can’t actually believe I just said that to you.”

Trixie’s answering laugh was tempered by her obvious concern. She really had been a rock, and Patsy was so very grateful for the presence of her unusually even tempered best friend.

“We’re going to do some research this afternoon. Find potential candidates. And then tomorrow we’ll make some calls about it.” Trixie’s elfin features contracted into a sternly resolute frown. “You’ll have an appointment by the end of the week.”

And so she had. Trixie had worked some magic and found a therapist who not only specialised in queer relationships but who could also accommodate Patsy at short notice.

Patsy had until Wednesday morning to come to terms with this. Or to run away. She was sorely tempted.

 

* * *

 

Delia’s bravery had deserted her in the face of Patsy’s shock. When the smaller girl reached up and kissed her, Patsy had frozen. A petrified lump of surprise and confusion and sudden, incredible yearning. Sensing Patsy’s stiff awkwardness, Delia had retreated hastily. A look of terrified horror tightening her features and shrinking her whole posture.

She’d murmured a choked, faint apology. Fled down the corridor towards her dormitory, and it was only the sound of the door slamming that jolted Patsy from her startled inaction.

She stood outside her own door for long, tortured moments. Completely unable to decide whether she should go after Delia and try to reassure her - to wipe that look of rejection and dread that had darkened the Welsh girl’s sunny disposition. Or if it was better (albeit far more cowardly) to withdraw into her own room and try to pretend the whole thing had never happened.

Of course she chose the latter. Her father, for almost two decades, had taught her how to avoid emotional upheaval at all costs and it was a lesson she’d absorbed with almost every fibre of her being.

She did not sleep well that night.

Instead, she tossed and turned and roundly cursed herself for being such a craven fool.

Because she was deluding herself if she tried to claim that the thought of kissing Delia hadn’t crossed her mind once or twice. A day. For the past few weeks now.

And here was Delia being brave and crossing that bridge for them and she’d blown it catastrophically with her inability to behave like a normal human being.

When the weak winter light finally broke through the dawn gloom she had argued herself back and forward so many times that she was dizzy and sick and sure that the bags under her eyes could comfortably hold the entire contents of her bookshelf. And she was no closer to having any clue what to do about Delia.

 

* * *

 

 

Patsy worked under the tutelage of Dr and Dr Turner. She’d laboured extraordinarily hard to be the best in her medical program, and just as hard to ensure she was given a placement under the instruction of the two preeminent specialists in her chosen field. Dr Shelagh Turner was renowned for her life-saving techniques in pre-natal and foetal surgery, and had safely delivered more babies than just about anyone else in the country. Her work and research in OB-GYN had earned her critical acclaim throughout the world, and Patsy held Dr Turner in the highest esteem.

Her husband, Dr Patrick Turner, was equally skilled in post-natal and paediatric surgery. They made a formidable team, and the hospital’s infant and maternal morbidity rates were amongst the lowest in the developed world.

Patsy considered herself extremely privileged to study under the two doctors. She’d worked months worth of overtime, had devoted countless evenings to research and had thrown just about every last skerrick of her energy into becoming the best doctor she could be. She knew that the Turners respected her passion and her dedication. Her relentless drive to find the solution for every patient, to save every life that came into her care.

And she panicked now, feared that her relationship drama and her sudden emotional instability would render her less in their eyes. That she would be overlooked for surgeries, passed over when opportunities arose. She’d stood in the hospital corridor outside Dr Turner’s office in the OB-GYN wing, her hand poised to knock, for a long moment. Breathing in the scent of disinfectant and cleanliness and order, and just the faintest hint of babies. Steeling herself, she rapped on the door smartly.

Dr Turner’s eyes had widened in surprise when she caught sight of Patsy. But she’d merely indicated that Patsy should sit, a carefully neutral expression in place.

Patsy had kept her explanation to a bare, clinical minimum. And Dr Turner had shot her a sympathetic glance and, once assured that Patsy didn’t want any time off, welcomed her back to work with a relieved smile.

“Honestly Patsy, I wasn’t sure how we were going to do without you for four full weeks. I’m sorry you’re going through such a terrible time, I really am. But I’m very glad to have you back on board.”

Her relief was so profound it almost made her light-headed. A deep breath, and then she dared to ask the question that had been plaguing her ever since she’d received that fateful friend request from Delia.

“Doctor, there’s an OB-GYN conference coming up very soon. I was going to be… away… and so I…” She trailed off, unsure of how to give voice to this request that seemed like such a bad idea and possibly the thing she needed to do the most in her whole life.

“Of course you have leave to attend. As much as your situation is… Well, let’s look at this opportunity as a silver lining, shall we?”

Caught between trepidation and elation, Patsy could only smile anxiously.

 

* * *

 

 

The next morning, Patsy couldn’t find Delia anywhere. She wasn’t in the the refectory at breakfast time, and she wasn’t in any of their usual haunts. When Patsy finally scraped together the courage to knock on Delia’s door, her only response was resounding silence. A peek into the dormitory revealed an empty room.

Outdoors a practically horizontal rain was pelting the grounds, so cold it bordered on sleet. Delia had clearly absconded to some hitherto unknown hidey hole inside the building, and Patsy was torn between the urge to tear the school apart looking for her, or to respect her privacy.

She dithered away an hour or two trying to read but found herself unable to concentrate on anything but the Delia shaped anxiety that had taken residence in her chest. By mid morning she was prowling the corridors silently, searching empty classrooms and deserted dormitories and unoccupied common rooms. She’d just about given up hope when she took one last turn through the library. The rain pounding against the windows provided a thrumming soundtrack to her worry, and was loud enough, in the echoing stillness, to almost mask the faint sniff that originated from the very back of the stacks.

Patsy crept, on tip toes, to the rear of the library. Barely daring to breathe in case she gave her approach away. As she rounded the last shelves she caught sight of Delia. Huddled in the very back corner of the library in a blanket, eyes swollen and red, surrounded by a mess of tissues.

Patsy felt her heart fracture. Anguished that she could have thoughtlessly caused Delia this much pain.

When blue eyes finally tracked up to meet hers, they were dull. Utterly drained of the cheerfulness that the Welsh girl usually exuded. Delia grimaced. In pain, in discomfort, in disappointment. It was impossible to tell.

“Leave me alone.”

“Delia…”

“Seriously Patsy. Just go away.”

“But…”

“For fucks sake, just leave it be. I’m embarrassed and hurt enough as it is, can you just leave me in peace. Please.”

God, she didn't know what to do. Literally every cell in her body was aching, torn between the urge to run away and the need to grab Delia and make the pain stop. Somehow.

She danced on a knife’s edge for a heartbeat. Another. And then she lurched forward, practically lunging on top of the Welsh girl. Grabbed her shoulders and brought their bodies together and just held on for dear life.

Delia fought her. Patsy knew she would. She might be petite, but she was fierce, and for a moment Patsy thought she’d break free. But then she’d heard a choked gasp. And Delia was sobbing into her shoulder and Patsy just held her and held her and held her. Rocking gently until the tears subsided, whispering apologies into soft dark hair and knowing that she never wanted to let go.

When Delia finally looked up, her face blotchy and tear stained and reddened, Patsy swore she’d never seen a more beautiful sight.

It was the most natural thing in the world to lean forward. To close the distance between them and just kiss her.

 

* * *

 

 

Patsy had agreed with Dr Turner that she’d begin back at work on Thursday. After her first session with the therapist. She hadn’t planned on telling anyone about that. But somehow she just seemed to be blurting things out all over the place lately, and it just sort of happened.

The Doctor had not pressed her. Had simply smiled gently, told Patsy that it sounded like a fine idea, and that she’d see her bright and early on Thursday morning.

When Patsy got back to Trixie’s (the blonde hadn’t let her go home yet) she’d flipped open the lid of her laptop. Logged into Facebook and just stared for a long moment at the unanswered friend request in her notifications bar.

Her cursor hovered over it, vibrating in time to the tremor in her hand. It made it difficult to finally click the _Accept_ button.


	6. What you will

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patsy sees the therapist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanted to say thank you for the comments and the kudos. Each and every one is appreciated, and usually makes me want to squeeze in more time to write. Although time is a sadly precious commodity.

“And what is it that you hope to get out of these sessions?”

The therapist, Louise, looked at Patsy steadily. She’d been firm but not challenging so far, letting Patsy muddle and meander her way through the basics of her current predicament. And now Patsy sat, in an unexpectedly comfortable armchair, unable to clarify even in her own mind what it was that she really wanted. It was all just so conflicted, and there were too many parts of her that wanted too many different things.

“I don't know what I truly want. And that's the problem, you see?”

“Explain it to me.”

“Well, if I knew what exactly it was that I wanted, then I would simply go out and get it… or at least work towards achieving it. That's what I do.”

Her only response was an encouraging nod.

“Yes, that's what I do. I set a goal, work towards that goal, and then achieve it. But at this point in time, I don't know what my goal is. I can't achieve anything when I'm in this state of flux… when I’m so unsure about what it is that I'm supposed to be aiming for.”

“I'm interested in how you phrased that. You said that you're supposed to be aiming for something. Do you feel that people, or perhaps someone in particular, have placed expectations on you? That this is something outside your control?”

That was a salient point. Was it outside her control? Surely it wasn’t, yet this yearning to rush towards Delia had a flavour of inevitability.

 

* * *

 

Kissing Delia became somewhat addictive after that.

They’d sat in the chilly air of the library for hours, cuddled together under Delia’s blanket. Patsy had stumbled through an explanation. An apology. And Delia had looked up at Patsy with wonder in her expressive blue eyes and Patsy had turned into a puddle of warm goo. Like so much chocolate on a summer’s day.

And so they’d kissed and kissed some more until the frigid atmosphere cooled their ardour and they were driven to the warmer, more public parts of the school.

Neither of them had any experience, and Patsy was grateful for it. Delia was fairly okay with taking things at a snail’s pace. Which was just as well because Patsy had little to no clue what she was doing, and an overwhelming sense of paranoia at being caught.

Delia had tried to reassure her. It just wasn’t as big a deal to be gay anymore. But it rang a tad hollow when Delia wasn’t that keen on outing herself.

It was easier just to stay hidden, to steal kisses when no one else was around. And that was a relatively simple proposition during the break, but when the term recommenced it became infinitely more difficult to find even a modicum of privacy.

The only time they had alone was stolen, and painfully brief. Delia would urge Patsy out of the refectory before the end of the lunch break, would push her into an empty classroom and kiss her up against the door until the sound of students returning to class forced them apart. Or Patsy might beckon to Delia from the back of the library, where the stacks were dusty and quiet and they could usually count on a minute or two of undisturbed time.

These all too fleeting encounters were infrequent - and they both terrified and excited Patsy to the point of anxiety. Sometimes it was too much to bear, and disappointment would flash cool in Delia’s eyes before a small hand would grasp hers. Squeeze in understanding.

Occasionally, all too sporadically, they’d find space and time to be together. It happened more often once Spring decided to arrive, heralding warmer weather and the chance to get out into the grounds. On weekends they could take a blanket into the woods, find a quiet grove to spend a few hours. Immersed in each other’s company and the chance to speak freely. To act freely.

Still conscious of the potential for discovery, Patsy never allowed them to go too far. But she learned how smooth Delia’s skin was. How sensitive the hollow beside her collarbone was. Learned that Delia would whimper in the most arresting manner when Patsy chewed gently on her earlobe. That she could make goosebumps appear all over Delia’s body by gently scraping her nails across Delia’s belly.

How Delia’s blue, blue eyes would darken and smolder when Patsy, oh so daringly, worked her hand under her bra and caressed the impossibly soft skin of her breasts.

They’d almost been caught that day. Delia had been perched on Patsy’s hips, her dark hair curtained around their faces as Delia’s tongue drew patterns inside Patsy’s mouth, as her pelvis undulated against Patsy’s abdomen. So lost in each other that it was almost too late when they heard the crunch of footsteps through the undergrowth, the low murmur of muted conversation. They’d sprung apart, pretended to act natural. But Patsy was sure that the burning flush that raced across her face was visible from space let alone from the tree line where two figures appeared seconds later.

The pair of senior girls, deep in conversation, heads close together, had merely nodded at them. Moved further into the woods.

It had troubled Patsy deeply.

 

* * *

 

“So what’s really your best case scenario here? In a world where you can make any decision you like, and nobody gets hurt by it - if we remove all other considerations from the table - what is it that you’d like most of all?”

She can’t. Patsy sat for a long, loaded moment. Searched her mind and her heart, and the thing she’s most drawn to causes entirely too much heartache. She can’t just eliminate everyone’s feelings from the equation. Especially not when there’s no guarantee that…

“I can see from the expression on your face that you’re still trying to weigh up all the other factors, Patsy.”

“It’s not as easy as callously disregarding everyone else, and thinking only of myself.” Frustrated. “That’s not reality! The reality is that I must balance the impact it has and I can’t do what I want. I…” She trailed off, realising that she’d finally voiced it. There was something she wanted. Someone she wanted.

The therapist smiled at Patsy. Gentle.

“And now our work begins. We need to find a way for you to live with this decision. Your goal is set, now you must overcome your own fears and doubts and come to terms with the fact that you will be hurting someone.” A pause. “It’s an unfortunate side effect of love… of relationships. You will be hurt and you will hurt others.”

“I never wanted to hurt anyone.” Strained.

“We rarely set out to hurt the people we love. But sometimes, it happens all the same.”

 

* * *

 

Flyers had gone up around the school to audition for the school production. Patsy had dismissed the idea as ridiculous, but Delia was thrilled at the prospect and so Patsy had volunteered to work behind the scenes.

The Art Director, Ms Keville, had decided on Shakespeare that year. The Twelfth Night, and Delia had been cast as Olivia. Which Patsy thought was a splendid idea, until she heard about the twist that was happening.

Unlike the Headmistress, Ms Keville was a free spirit. Eccentric and elaborate and with a tendency to overly dramatise everything with florid prose. She insisted that the students call her Monica Joan, even though it was expressly against school regulations for students to address teachers by anything but their last names. She had a record of throwing a controversial element into the biannual stage production that the school put on, and this year’s was no exception.

They usually had boys from the nearby grammar school participate, take on any male roles that the selected plays called for. This year, however, Monica Joan had decided that the girls would play all the parts. And she had no intention of minimising the romantic aspects of the play.

It drove Patsy to distraction.

Watching Delia on stage, rehearsing frantically as opening night drew closer - Olivia kissed Viola/Cesario right there in front of her. Delia kissing another girl, albeit a girl playing a girl playing a boy. And then again, when Olivia finally meets Sebastian and she was kissing a girl playing a boy. And there were too many girls being boys and it made her head hurt and there was just too much kissing.

It leaked around the whole school rather swiftly.

The whispers started, and it only ratcheted Patsy’s paranoia tenfold. Delia affected unconcern, but Patsy could tell that it made her uncomfortable. That it made her worry, and draw away from Patsy. Which was barely noticeable because Patsy had drawn away too.

Except in private when they clung to each other fiercely and Delia whispered over and over that she loved her.

 

* * *

 

“I was hurt when I was young. It took me years to get past that. Absolutely years. And I vowed that I wouldn’t do that to someone else. That I wouldn’t… abandon… someone else. How can I even be contemplating this?”

“What precisely is it that you’re considering Patsy?”

“Getting back together with the same person that hurt me all those years ago. And hurting someone I care about very much indeed.”

“Do you think…” A measure pause. “Do you think that perhaps you’re getting a little ahead of yourself? I was under the impression that the only contact you’d had with the person from your past was a Facebook friend request. Is there more to it?”

“No.” Patsy shook her head. “No, you’re right. Literally all I’ve done is accept the request.” A pause. “And read through every single post on her wall.” Sheepish, blue eyes peeked up to find a quietly knowing smile on the older woman’s face. “I can’t seem to get her out of my head.”

“You won’t. Not until you start to work through some of those issues from your past.” Louise’s serene expression tightened - she directed a concerned look at Patsy, frowned slightly. “Patsy, I know that you’ve told me that she’s missed you. But what will you do if she has no interest in rekindling a romantic relationship? I think you’ve made progress just in admitting to yourself that you’d like to pursue something with this person. Be careful about projecting too much further than that right now.”

“I know. Believe me, _I know_. I’m well aware that I’m being ridiculous, and I hate that about myself. I hate that I’ve regressed to this silly teenaged idiot who struggles with… well, everything.”

“And now you’re being too hard on yourself. We’ve certainly got some work to do together. But I have every confidence that we can see you safely through this turning point in your life.” A pause. “Now, let’s start by you actually telling me her name.”

“Delia.” Just saying it out loud still made her breath catch. “Her name is Delia.”


	7. There's more than one answer to these questions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The play draws to a conclusion. And Patsy arrives at the convention.

Going back to work hadn't been as hard as Patsy expected. She'd expected whispers and sidelong glances and possibly outright nosiness, but everyone was surprisingly understanding and Patsy was sure she had Trixie to thank for it. Patsy just knuckled down and got right back to it, gratified that patients she’d left in the care of other doctors were too overjoyed to see her return that they didn’t ask questions.

Her first visit to the therapist had been uncomfortable, but not as traumatic as she’d initially feared. She let Louise’s words percolate through her subconscious as she worked, trying to come to grips with how to proceed.

At the end of her first shift (a day shift, Dr Turner was apparently coddling her) she headed back to Trixie’s, greeted at the door by a glass of wine, freshly prepared stir fry and a sympathetic smile. Patsy burst into tears, remembering the many times that Lucy had welcomed her home the same way, and then had to spend twenty hiccup-y minutes trying to reassure Trixie that she’d really done nothing wrong.

When they both finally calmed down, Patsy stared mournfully at the now congealed mess in her bowl and sighed.

“I really do think it’s time for me to leave you in peace. I’ve imposed long enough.”

“It’s not an imposition!”

“It is. You’ve been lovely about absolutely everything, but the truth is I’m going to be an emotional wreck for the foreseeable future and it’s just not fair to subject you to that.”

“Patsy!” Frustrated. “It’s precisely because you’re so emotionally unstable that I don’t want you on your own. You’ve cried on me more times in the last week than in the whole seven years we’ve been friends.”

“Yes and I’m sure you’re quite tired of it.” Darkly. “I know I am.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“It’s anything but ridiculous. I think it’s well past time for me to face some demons on my own.”

“Patsy…”

“Honestly Trix. I need some space to think some things through.” A pause. “Remember the whole point of going to see a therapist was so I can start working on some of my issues.” She knew that one would hit home, watched in satisfaction as her best friend’s indignant posture softened. “She’s already raised some points that I need time to consider. It’s probably not going to be pretty.” Deprecating.

Trixie nodded slowly. Conceding defeat. “I understand. I do wish you’d let me help you though.”

“You’ve helped me so much already.” A deep breath. “I really am very grateful Trix. I’m not sure I would have managed without you.” It came out stilted. Forced even. Patsy cursed her father for crippling her so effectively, making it feel so unnatural to connect with people emotionally.

But Trixie knew and Trixie understood and her response was simply to clasp Patsy’s hand. Smile gently.

And help Patsy pack up her minimal belongings.

 

* * *

 

 

As opening night of the school play drew inexorably closer, the whispers grew in frequency and became increasingly speculative. Patsy became implicated by association, and so she was forced to listen to deliberately uncharitable and mean-spirited rumours about their relationship, knowing full well that no-one actually believed it was true. They were merely grist for the mill.

She spent ninety eight percent of her time desperate for a cigarette, but unable to indulge her craving because Delia had begged her to quit. That other two percent was starting to feel insufficient to make up for the deficit.

It was so very hard for them to find any time together. Eyes were on them constantly, and the tension was so fraught that they ended up snapping irritably at one another more often than being able to enjoy each other’s company.

Delia’s eyes, usually so blue and calm and cheerful, had sharpened to a perpetual, tight, icy grey. Her features, once so carefree and full of joy, had likewise tightened. Her mouth turned downward into an unhappy frown.

The only time Patsy saw Delia relaxed was on stage. Somehow when she inhabited Olivia she did it wholeheartedly and unreservedly. Her sly grins, her flashing eyes and infectious laugh came out on stage, and so Patsy lived for rehearsals. Basked in those precious minutes when Delia could be herself. Could be happy.

 

* * *

 

 

It was oddly normal walking back into her home. Despite the cavernous silence, the slight musty smell of abandonment. It felt like coming home after a marathon week of back to back shifts, and she almost called out for Lucy. Caught herself just in time.

Patsy made herself a cup of tea, and curled into her favourite armchair. The soft glow of the nearby lamp her only illumination. Lit a cigarette and guiltily relished Lucy’s absence. She never usually smoked in the house.

Stared at her phone for a long, ponderous moment - then typed a message and hit send before she could think better of it.

 

> _Hello Delia. You did see me on the train that night. I spotted you on the platform._  
>  _As it turns out I will be attending the conference. Maybe we can catch up._  
>  _Patsy_

The response was almost immediate.

 

> _Hi. I was wondering if you’d ever reply. To be honest I was surprised you even accepted my friend request._  
>  _I’m really looking forward to seeing you. I want to hear all about your life._

There were so many things she wanted to say. So many things she wanted to know. But online messaging wasn’t the best forum for such discussion. And so her fingers hovered over the keys for a long moment. Long enough that the screen dimmed from inactivity, and finally went black.

A minute later it beeped back into life.

 

> _Patsy? I’m sorry._

Patsy lit another cigarette. Stared into the evening gloom, unseeing. Lost in thought.

 

* * *

 

 

Opening night arrived before Patsy was ready for it. She was working on sets, and so wouldn’t really get to see the play. Wouldn’t get to see Delia in her element. Could only catch glimpses from the wings, and so before the show started she sought Delia out. Intent on wishing her good luck.

Delia was already in costume, and in character, and she was just so beautiful that it made Patsy’s heart hurt. With bravado that Delia was recently lacking but Olivia seemed to have in spades, the smaller girl drew Patsy into a secluded nook backstage. Folded the curtain around them, and in that tiny, precious space kissed Patsy so intently that all she could hear was the blood pounding in her veins, the rushing heave of breath. And then Delia was gone as Ms Keville called for lights and Patsy stood, bewildered.

It was only after long minutes had passed, when she shook her head to clear it of Delia-induced fog, that Patsy caught a glimpse of the Headmistress.

Heart sinking, she wondered what the Headmistress had seen.

But then the play started and she was so busy racing around, preparing props and rearranging the stage that her fear receded to the very back of her mind, and it was only hours later, after the curtains had closed to thunderous applause and the whole crew had retreated to their beds, exhausted, that the memory came rushing back.

Had she seen them? Even if she hadn’t, it was obvious that something was going on behind the curtain. Patsy was certain the Headmistress was well aware of the rumours circulating amongst the student body. It only remained to wait until tomorrow, to see what would eventuate.

Patsy agonised over whether to tell Delia. The younger girl had been so happy tonight, buoyed by the success of the play and adulation of the crowd. Patsy hated the idea of worrying her further, of dampening her rare good mood. But she didn’t want Delia to be blindsided in case something did come of it.

She resolved to tell Delia as soon as the play was over. They were performing a three night run. Surely Delia deserved to be happy for two more nights.

 

* * *

 

 

The next two weeks both flew by in a blur, and dragged interminably. Patsy threw herself into her work, giving every last bit of physical and mental energy to her patients in an effort to fatigue herself to the point of insensibility and sleep. She saw Louise a couple more times, and Patsy really felt like she was making some progress. That she was finally starting to grapple some of the emotional skeletons in the back of her closet. But the biggest of all was Delia, and as the days marched on and the conference drew near, her anxiety and indecision about it became somewhat debilitating.

The morning of the conference opening saw her unable to sleep past 4am. Chain smoking until she was nauseated, until the sun glimmered above the horizon. A bright, menacing eye - taunting, making her eyes water and her head ache. Or maybe that was too many cigarettes.

She skulked into the convention centre with two minutes to spare, slipping into the main hall to hear the keynote speech from the back row. Only half of her attention on the presentation, the other acutely aware of every brunette head in the vicinity.

She wasn’t sure if she was relieved or disappointed to be unable to make out Delia in the nearby crowd.

 

* * *

 

 

The third and final show they performed was magical. The first two performances there had been forgotten lines and mild staging errors, the kind of thing one expected to happen in a school production. The final night, however, flowed like a dream. The actors remembered their lines and their marks, the costume changes worked seamlessly, and the sets seemed to melt into place. The whole evening progressed without so much as a single mishap, and the crew went ballistic with joyous excitement when the curtain closed for the last time.

Ms Keville had arranged a brief after party (they were amazed she’d managed to get the Headmistress to agree) and Patsy felt like she was hugged and congratulated by hundreds of people. There was only one person she wanted to hug, though, and Patsy was acutely aware of Delia’s presence on the opposite side of the room.

Every so often she would glance Delia’s way and their eyes would meet. A bolt of searing heat hitting her right in the chest, making her stomach flip pleasantly. A warm tugging sensation lower down in her belly. It was maddening, and when the party wrapped up Delia gestured subtly. Patsy would have followed her to the moon.

They met in a deserted classroom, lit only by the green emergency exit light above the door.

Patsy didn’t need any more light to see by.

They came together in a rush of hands and lips and tongues and teeth and it was more, so much more. Patsy wanted to tell Delia how proud she was of her, how amazing and wonderful and just how much she loved her, but it was lost in the fervid heat of their bodies.

She had her hands under Delia’s dress, Delia had rucked Patsy’s shirt up and out of the way, when the measured pacing of a teacher in the corridor outside forced them apart. Panting, desperately trying remain silent, they listened as the footsteps paused. Resumed and were lost in the distance.

They stared at each other in shared relief. Both acutely aware that the moment was lost.

Were separating in the hallway outside Delia’s dormitory when Patsy finally found her voice again.

“I’m so proud of you Deels.”

Blue eyes gleamed in the low light. Almost luminescent with happiness.

“I love you.”

She fell into a fitful slumber, fighting to stay awake and relive this incredible evening with Delia. Awoke the next morning from a dream in which Delia was lost, in which Patsy was doomed to wander the hallways calling for Delia and hearing only the whispering wind in response. The sense of foreboding was intense, and when her Head of House knocked on the door Patsy’s heart constricted.


	8. Endings and beginnings

She was to report to the Headmistress’s office immediately upon dressing. Patsy’s sense of dread grew exponentially. Feet leaden, stomach roiling angrily, she hurriedly threw on whatever clothes were closest to hand. Uncaring of her appearance. Pulled her hair into a loose bun before stepping into the hallway to find her Head of House waiting.

Oh.

It felt not dissimilar to how she imagined prisoners on death row experienced their last moments. The long corridor, the bright, industrial lights. The mounting terror at what would happen at the end of the journey.

A sharp rap of knuckles on the door, then Patsy was ushered into an overly warm, peculiarly decorated office. In stark contrast to the clean lines and warm timbers comprising the rest of the school, this room looked like a young girl’s boudoir. The decor could be most charitably described as pink froufrou. Tiny porcelain cats stared at her from every available surface. It was so distracting that she almost missed the delicate throat clearing that she supposed was designed to garner her attention.

“Miss Mount. I have some questions I need you to answer.”

Patsy wasn’t accustomed to lying. She’d never needed to before. Never really done anything that someone could have disapproved of. So when the Headmistress asked her bluntly about her relationship with Delia she could only stare, blank. Wracking her brain for any kind of plausible explanation, but her mind refused to cooperate. And so she remained stubbornly mute despite the Headmistress’s increasingly shrill haranguing.

Finally the woman shrugged. Informed her that Delia’s parents had been contacted about the situation. That they were still trying to get in touch with Patsy’s father.

She was to stay away from Miss Busby until the matter was resolved. That it was likely that one or both of them would be removed from the school.

Patsy trudged back to her dormitory. Numb.

Her Head of House smiled sympathetically. But firmly directed her into her room when Patsy’s gaze lingered, longing, down the hallway towards Delia’s dormitory. She stood just inside the door, ignoring the questions of her roommates. Listening.

Opened the door when she caught the measured tread.

“Delia!”

The younger girl looked terrified. Blue eyes wide in shock and fear and Patsy’s stomach lurched.

“Delia, it’s going to be okay.” She ignored the warning calls, stepped into the corridor and grasped the Welsh girl’s hands. Startled at how chilled they were. “Deels, listen. We’ll get through this.”

“What’s happening?”

“The Headmistress. She… knows. She saw us, on opening night.”

“Oh my god!”

“Stay strong, Delia. We’ll get through this.”

And then Delia was escorted down the hallway and she was edged back into her room. To face a barrage of incessant questions and to ponder how exactly they were going to get through this.

 

* * *

 

 

She was a coward. One hundred percent lily-livered chicken. She’d raced out of the auditorium the moment the keynote looked like it was wrapping up, and now she was lingering by the information stand pretending to studiously read the program of events. While scanning the crowded gangway for a glimpse of a familiar figure, poised to bolt at a moment’s notice.

Patsy estimated that her cortisol levels were so high, her fight/flight reflexes so finely tuned, that it was anyone’s guess what reaction she'd have when she finally saw Delia. She forced herself to remember what she’d talked about with Louise. That it wasn’t the end of the world if this first meeting didn’t go well. That she needed to breath so that she didn’t just pass out.

Patsy closed her eyes for a long moment. Focused on breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth. Expelling every last cubic centimetre of air out of her lungs before breathing in fresh oxygen. Pictured the flow of oxygen through her lungs and heart and bloodstream, and finally felt her pulse relax minutely. Slow to a rapid thrumming rather than the uncountable blur that was bordering on tachycardia.

Several deep breaths later, and she felt back in control. Moderately.

Opened her eyes to see familiar blue ones looking back at her across the corridor.

 

* * *

 

 

Patsy's roommates were surprisingly sympathetic. Took it upon themselves to keep an eye out for Delia’s return, and to investigate what had happened.

All that they could report was that the Welsh girl looked absolutely distraught as she’d been led back to her room, via a different route. The Head of House had directed her to stay in her room, as Patsy had also been instructed. That it sounded as if Delia was crying.

Heart constricting, Patsy railed at the injustice of their incarceration. All she wanted was to comfort Delia, reassure her. Tell her everything would be okay.

Patsy was under no illusion that it would be okay. But the thought of Delia alone and upset was was more than she could bear.

She heard nothing else until the afternoon. Another ominous knock on the door heralded a further summons to the Headmistress.

“I've spoken with your father, Miss Mount.” Her pursed lips and narrowed eyes left Patsy with no doubt how that conversation had gone. “He is unwilling to trouble himself with finding an alternative school for your final year, so it appears we’re stuck with you for now.”

Yes. That sounded precisely like Father.

“Now the only reason I agreed to this was because Mrs Busby has decided to withdraw her daughter from the school, effective immediately. Consider yourself lucky Miss Mount. I would have preferred if you’d both been removed.”

Patsy was aware that the Headmistress was speaking, but the sound was warped and distant through the sudden rush of panic. Delia was being taken away. She had to find her. Willing steel into her legs she pressed up out of the chair. Startled when the Headmistress banged her hands on the desk.

“Miss Mount, you have not been excused.”

“I don't care. I need to see Delia.”

“You will do no such thing!” A pause. “At least, not without supervision. Arrangements have been made. You will be allowed five minutes to say your goodbyes.”

“Five minutes!?!”

“If it were up to me you'd get nothing. Your Head of House apparently thinks very highly of you. Of you both. A view that is clearly ill founded in the circumstances.”

“When?” Choked.

“Miss Busby is packing her belongings as we speak. I imagine they'll be ready to leave quite soon.”

 

* * *

 

 

They stared at each other across the crowded gangway. Eyes locked, heedless of the heads that popped in and out of view as people wandered around the convention centre.

It was funny. Patsy had read about couples seeing each other across a crowded room and she’d always scoffed at the possibility of instant connections. Utter nonsense. And yet here she was, gawking like a fool and completely oblivious to the hordes of people jostling past.

Because somehow she’d been drawn into the middle of the hallway, quite without her conscious consent. And people were breaking around her like waves on an outcrop, and she just had time to wonder if she was the immovable object or the unstoppable force when a hauntingly distinctive figure was before her.

 

* * *

 

 

“Delia!”

She’d been escorted to a meeting room. Unceremoniously ushered inside, and the door left open behind her.

Delia was already in the room - a wan, timid body curled into the corner of a chair. It hurt. Oh it hurt to see her beautiful, vibrant Delia looking so deflated. So defeated.

Patsy sunk to her knees in front of the chair, reached for the smaller girl’s hands. They were pale. Bloodless and cold.

“Deels…”

“I can’t see you any more.”

“I know. The Headmistress…”

“No. My Mam… She said I can’t ever see you or talk to you again.”

Jagged spears of icy dread formed in Patsy’s chest. She wasn’t surprised to hear that Mrs Busby had said something along those lines. What shocked her was Delia’s apparent resignation.

“But surely we can still find a way.”

Delia’s head shook. Slow and ponderous. “It’s too hard.”

“Delia, please!”

“I’m sorry Patsy.” Small hands were tugged out of Patsy’s grasp, as Delia stood and trudged to the door. Her posture broken. Beaten.

Patsy stopped her before she reached the entrance. Grasped her arm and turned Delia to face her. “Delia, stop! Please.” Hoarse. “There must be something we can do.”

“There’s not.”

For a moment, a flickering second, Delia’s eyes flashed back to life. She reached up on tip toes. Pressed her lips to Patsy’s for a brief, heart rending instant.

“Goodbye Patsy.”

Then she was gone.

 

* * *

 

 

“Hello Patsy.”

It was as if eons had passed. Long, slow as molasses marches of interminable time. And as if no time had passed at all.

Delia looked exactly the same. Her hair was different, and she no longer carried herself with the disaffected slouch the characterised teenagers everywhere. But her eyes - those blue, blue eyes that Patsy had spent hours staring into were just the same as Patsy remembered. As was the smile, that was fading from joyful to trepidatious to worried.

Patsy roused herself from her dumbstruck reverie when Delia’s welcoming smile morphed into an anxious frown.

Cleared her throat.

“Hello Delia.”

She was almost positive her voice didn’t break.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it seems I couldn't leave this alone. We've finally come to the point of convergence. Or maybe it's divergence.
> 
> School holidays are coming up really soon, I'll hopefully be able to get a couple more chapters out over the next two weeks or so. I know my chapters are not regular like other authors. I get so little time to think and write. Stick with me.
> 
> And thanks for the kudos and comments. I appreciate them all.


	9. In which everything is just awkward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patsy and Delia spend the day together at the OB-GYN conference.

“You know, I’d somehow forgotten exactly how tall you are.”

It wasn’t how Patsy had expected that their conversation would begin. But, of course, this was Delia.

“You haven’t changed at all. Apart from your hair, obviously, but otherwise you look the same.” A pause. “And you still get speechless when you’re nervous.” A giggle punctuated that, and it allowed Patsy to relax. Minutely.

“And you still laugh when you’re nervous.”

“Guilty as charged.”

A steady current of conference attendees pushed past them, and when one over-zealous man jostled Delia slightly off balance, Patsy realised they should be doing this somewhere other than the middle of a crowded gangway.

“We should really get out of the way.”

“Probably.”

And yet they stood, staring. Patsy could hardly bear the thought of breaking eye contact. In case this happened to be a particularly vivid dream. A deep breath, and then she blinked. Deliberate. Gestured behind Delia.

“Look, there’s a spot out of the way over there.”

Delia looked away and Patsy could breath again.

Patsy tried. She really tried to look away. To pretend as if this was just the casual reacquaintance of old friends. But the intense need to absorb every single detail of the woman in front of her took hold, and so she almost tripped over her own feet trying to simply navigate the ten feet between her and the edge of the corridor.

Delia actually coloured when she turned around. Noticed Patsy’s intent stare. And damned if it wasn’t the most adorable thing Patsy had seen in a very long time.

She was in serious trouble.

At first glance Delia appeared exactly the same. There were some minor differences, of course. Her hair was shorter. Her build slimmer. Her posture more erect. But as Patsy continued to gaze subtle changes appeared. Fine lines had started to develop around Delia’s mouth, hinting at unhappiness. Her face had lost the roundness of youth, her jawline more prominent. But it was the changes to Delia’s shape that were most stark. Where once Delia had been girlish and curved, now her body spoke of musculature and strength. Her shirt strained slightly at the shoulders, definitely broader. Her stance, knees slightly bent, communicated muted energy.

It was fascinating, almost disconcerting.

Delia had taken the opportunity to complete her own perusal of Patsy. She tried not to flinch at the thought. Wondered if Delia could tell just by looking that she’d gone back to smoking. And never stopped.

Blue eyes finally tracked up to meet Patsy’s once more, and they both smiled. Sheepish but complicit.

“This is quite strange. So many times I’ve imagined seeing you again, but it was never this awkward in my head.”

It was on the tip of Patsy’s tongue to say she hadn’t thought about it. Tried very hard to forget all about Delia. But her newfound awareness told her that would be a bad idea. So instead she smiled. And if it was a little forced she hoped Delia didn’t notice.

“It was bound to be difficult. It’s been a very long time.” A pause. “Ten years in fact.”

“Ten years. Three months. And seventeen days.”

Oh.

They stared at each other for a long, fraught moment. Patsy started to wonder how it got so intense so quickly, when an announcement blasted from the speaker directly above their heads. The first workshops were due to start in five minutes.

Delia laughed.

And pulled out her conference schedule.

 

* * *

 

 

After a quick comparison they discovered that the workshops Delia had booked into were almost identical to those Patsy had selected, except for one, and so Patsy found herself facing the prospect of spending most of the day with the Welsh woman. It was unclear whether she should be delighted or terrified at the prospect. Her body was certainly giving her some spectacularly mixed signals about it all - the extreme stomach butterflies and pounding heart at odds with the sweaty palms and mild nausea.

They rushed to the first workshop, and Patsy was certain it was something significant, the topic pertaining very closely to some of the research she’d been doing. But the only thing she could focus on was Delia. The scent of her perfume. The press of her thigh against Patsy’s in the crowded room. The brush of her arm as she stretched. It was maddening and wonderful and Patsy needed a cigarette so badly by the end of it she could barely see straight.

To her great relief the next session was the one they had selected differently. They agreed to meet in the dining hall where lunch was provided, and Patsy was three steps towards the exit when she heard Delia call her name.

“Desperate for a smoke are you?”

Her shoulders sagged. Head bowed. She turned back to Delia with a chagrined expression.

“You wouldn't believe me if I said no, would you?”

“Not likely.” The smaller woman looked for a moment like she was going to say more. Then she simply shrugged. A closed expression dropping across her features. “It’s your life. I don’t have a say in it.”

Turned, and walked away.

The cigarette, when she finally got it, tasted bitter on the back of her tongue.

 

* * *

 

 

Patsy was barely better able to concentrate on the next workshop than the last, despite Delia’s absence. She hoped she’d be able to scrape together some creditable recount to give to Dr Turner upon her return to the hospital.

When she arrived at the lunch hall Delia was not alone. A second petite brunette was sitting with her at a table, gesticulating animatedly. Delia was smiling at the woman with a fondly indulgent expression. It made Patsy’s stomach claw angrily at her throat. She choked down the acid before plastering an interested smile on her face.

That turned into a genuine smile when Delia spotted her, and her blue eyes lit up in pleasure at seeing Patsy, and… There went the butterflies again. They were swarming so virulently that she was quite distracted - almost missed the chair as she tried to sit at the table.

Blue eyes twinkled at her. Knowing.

And then Delia was introducing her to Barbara.

“Hello! Delighted to meet you.”

Barbara, it turned out, had studied midwifery with Delia. They’d shared a flat together in London while they were training, but once they were qualified Barbara had moved back home to Liverpool. Barbara was regaling them with a tale of a rather hilarious and awkward birth she’d recently attended when an announcement was made that lunch service was beginning.

Delia fairly bolted, actually hurdling a bench on her way to the front of the queue. She didn’t quite beat the most enthusiastic people - the ones who had been deliberately lurking at the food service area - but she managed to be close to the front and Patsy was practically gasping in her haste to reach Delia before she was served. Unceremoniously elbowed a few dawdlers out of her way in the process. Barbara merely trailed along in her wake, an amused expression curling one side of her mouth.

Lunch turned out to be a surprisingly appetising looking selection of roasted meats and vegetables. Accompanied by a glass of wine no less.

Barbara refused the wine. “Vicar’s daughter, you know. Can’t seem to tolerate more than a sip of communion wine.”

Patsy was content to remain silent during lunch, letting the two friends catch up and simply absorbing the sound of Delia’s voice. They’d occasionally include her in their conversation, but after she pointed out that Barbara was to return to Liverpool while she and Delia were closer (and after Delia drilled her with an inquisitive look to assess her sincerity) they continued their catch up.

Barbara had selected different workshops for the afternoon. Her focus was more on helping the disadvantaged and pre and post natal care for different cultural groups.

They bid her goodbye and turned as one to find their next workshop. Patsy found herself reaching for Delia’s hand and only caught herself just before they touched.

 

* * *

 

 

The final two workshops passed by in a blur. Patsy succeeded in scribbling some notes, collected a few pamphlets. Even managed to introduce herself to a clinician whose research project was similar to Patsy’s work.

Throughout it all she was intensely conscious of Delia’s presence.

When the closing speech was done, they remained in the hall until most of the other attendees had filtered out of the conference centre. Finally, Delia stretched and stood.

“Well, I think we’d best be leaving.”

Patsy sighed. Clambered unwillingly to her feet. Was about to speak, about to do something - anything - to prolong their time together, when Delia looked up at her intently.

“It was really nice to see you again Pats.” The contraction of her name sent a bolt directly to her heart. Warm and fond.

She didn’t trust herself not to say something stupidly inappropriate, so Patsy limited herself to nodding.

“I’d really like it if we could catch up properly some time.” A pause. “Just us.”

“That would be wonderful.”

“You can tell me all about your fiancée.”

Another shot to the heart, this one icy with shock and dread.

“Delia…”

“I’ll send you a message. We’ll do it soon. Promise.”

And then she was gone, her gait strong and purposeful, and Patsy had to quash the impulse to run after her. Or cry


	10. Hope, on swift and delicate wings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patsy and Delia meet, and start to talk.

Lucy was going to be back in nine days.  She had just over a week to decide what direction the future would take.  What hurt she was going to inflict.

In Patsy’s mind there was still some doubt.  Still a question about which path she’d take.  But in her heart…  In her heart she knew she needed to break it off with Lucy.  That trying to salvage some kind of relationship would not do either of them any favours.  She’d talked it through with Louise.  Acknowledged that even if things didn’t work out with Delia (and she fervently hoped they would) going back to the status quo with Lucy just wasn’t possible.

She’d had the conversation with Lucy about twelve times already.  Patsy was a firm believer in planning for all eventualities - with the exception of her love life it seemed - and so she’d been mentally mapping out what she was going to say.  And how she expected Lucy to react.  None of these conversations went very well at all.

There had been very little sleep, too much wine and far too many cigarettes as she agonised over what to do.  Still none the wiser, Patsy pinned her hopes on Louise.  Or possibly Trixie.  Surely someone could tell her what to do.

And in the meantime she cleaned.  In the face of emotional turmoil, Patsy turned to the comfort of bleach and the polishing cloth.  The house had never been so spotless.  Not a single speck of dust dared to settle on a surface.  Not a drop of moisture defaced a glass surface.  Not a piece of plastic ware out of place in the kitchen cupboards.  She’d even relabelled and alphabetised the spice rack.

Upon reflection, the excessive cleanliness was probably going to telegraph everything Lucy needed to know.

The cleaning also kept her mind off the fact that she hadn’t yet heard from Delia.  Granted it had only been a few days since the conference, but still she kept one ear attuned to her phone.  Rushed to check her notifications at the end of each shift.

Patsy had lost count of the number of times she’d picked up her phone, started composing verbose and long-winded missives to explain her situation.  Only to delete them again.  Angry.  Why was she being so conciliatory?  Wasn’t it Delia who had given up on them?

Surely Delia was the one who owed her an explanation.

 

* * *

 

She was almost asleep one evening when the message from Delia arrived in her inbox.  It had been an extra long shift due to an emergency C-section and subsequent monitoring of the premature infant.  They’ve been unable to stave off preeclampsia despite their best efforts.

It made Patsy so angry. She hated feeling useless.  Couldn’t stand that every effort was futile in the battle against eclampsia.  Despite all the progress that had been made in medicine, there was still this condition that jeopardised mothers and infants.

They’d nearly lost the little one today.  She was more than eleven weeks premature, and they’d done everything they could to keep the pregnancy viable.  But sometimes…  Sometimes no matter what you did, it came down to the simple fact of saving the mother’s life.

The baby was relatively stable now - in the incubator with oxygen to compensate for her underdeveloped lungs.

Patsy was going over the case in her head as she drifted off, trying to glean any further information from her memories.  Figure out if there was anything different she could have done to prolong the pregnancy.

Was almost asleep when her phone beeped at her hopefully.  Patsy almost ignored it.  Looked at the lateness of the hour and assumed it was Trixie checking in.  Picked the phone up to switch it to silent when the notification on the lock screen caught her eye.  An instant message.

The immediate adrenalin burst had her sitting up before she even thought what she was doing.  Fumbled to open the message.

 

 

> _Hi Patsy.  Sorry it’s so late but I wanted to catch you tonight if possible.  I would have tried earlier but I’ve had three births today.  There must be something in the water._
> 
>  
> 
> _I’m due an off-day on Saturday.  If you don’t already have plans can we meet up?  I’m open to just about anything if you have any preferences._
> 
>  
> 
> _Talk soon,_
> 
> _D_
> 
>  

If Patsy believed in any higher powers, she would have thought they were smiling down on her right now.  By some fortuitous coincidence she was not scheduled to work Saturday either.

Before she had time to second guess herself, she typed a brief reply.

 

 

> _Saturday is perfect.  I have the whole day free._
> 
>  

The response was almost instantaneous.

 

 

> _You’re not rostered on?_
> 
>  

> _No._
> 
>  

> _No other plans?_
> 
>  

> _None._
> 
>  

> _Any idea what you want to do?_
> 
>  

> _Not a clue._
> 
>  

She could practically see Delia rolling her eyes, could visualise the corner of her mouth curve up in amused exasperation.

 

 

> _Alright then.  Meet me at Regent’s Park at 11:30._
> 
>  

> _A.M. I presume?_
> 
>  

> _Yes Patsy._
> 
>  

> _What should I bring?_
> 
>  

There was a pause here of a few moments.  Patsy could see the three dots as Delia typed something.  And kept typing.  Finally, the message appeared.

 

 

> _A book._
> 
>  

> _A book?  That’s it?_
> 
>  

> _Yes, a book.  Whatever you’re reading._
> 
>  

> _Nothing else?_
> 
>  

> _Just yourself.  But dress warm._
> 
>  

> _Are you certain?_
> 
>  

> _Yes Patsy._
> 
>  

> _Let me know if you change your mind and there’s anything I can bring._
> 
>  

> _Goodnight Patsy._
> 
>  

> _Night Delia._

 

* * *

 

It seemed as though, since Delia came back into her life, that time was working on two different planes for Patsy.

On one of those planes time moved extraordinarily quickly.  She had work and a session with Louise and drinks and debrief with Trixie and shopping and cooking and cleaning and Saturday was hurtling closer much faster than Patsy could get her head around.

On the other plane time well nigh stood still.  It felt like weeks until Saturday and Patsy wasn’t sure how she could possibly stand to wait that long.

She was somehow trapped inside Einstein’s twin paradox but she was both the twins.  And without getting to do anything near as exciting as travelling at the speed of light.

The speed of light was approximately how fast her heart was racing when she climbed out of the tube station at Regent’s Park at 11:28 A.M. on Saturday morning.  And it was only partially due to decreased lung capacity.

Wearing a warm coat, scarf and beanie, clutching a book and a packet of chocolate biscuits, she was beyond nervous.  It had taken a while for her addled brain to connect the dots.  Patsy liked to think she was usually intelligent.  She’d graduated dux from school, was always in the top fifth percentile in her cohort at university.  And yet it had taken her almost two days to put together Delia’s clues into a coherent idea.

Park.  Warm clothes.  Book.

Picnic.

Trixie had just shaken her head.  Bemused.  And concerned about Patsy’s scattered state.

She’d agonised over whether to bring the chocolate biscuits.  Worried it would send the wrong kind of message to reference the past that much.

Her best friend’s blue eyes had drilled into her sternly at that.  “Honestly Patsy, you’re being a little bit ridiculous about this.  You _want_ to start up a relationship again.  Why wouldn’t you want to remind her of those happy times you spent together?”

And Patsy had apologised.  Poured Trixie another glass of wine.

Yet she was still apprehensive at she stood at the entrance to Regent’s Park Station.  Scanning the area until she spotted a compact form.  Carrying a picnic basket and wearing a panda bear beanie.

Oh.

A warm flush of joy pulsed through Patsy’s chest.  Sure the beaming grin she could feel stretching her face was overenthusiastic, but completely unable to temper it into anything more moderate.

Wasn’t sure she cared anyway when the answering smile lit Delia’s eyes with sunshine and sparkles and just about made her swoon.

They just stood there, smiling at each other.  And hope took wing in Patsy’s chest and made her heart soar.

 

* * *

 

They headed north into The Regent’s Park, and at first Patsy thought they’d end up at the Zoo.  Instead, Delia found a sunny spot, close enough to hear the muffled noises of the animals, and the not so muted sounds of children in the nearby playground.  Laid a blanket down on the dry, wintry grass and invited Patsy to sit.

From her position Patsy was aware of the world around them - the families at the playground, the joggers on the paths, the cars on the road - but could see no one else.  She leaned back on her hands, head tilted to the sky.  Absorbing the mild sun and Delia’s presence in equal measure.

A deep breath.  A sigh of contentment.  Glanced over at Delia and caught a quickly masked glimpse of pain in blue eyes, before the Welsh woman smiled.

“Too early for lunch?”

“Probably.”

“I have tea.”

“Tea sounds lovely.”

Delia bustled about with plastic cups and a thermos, and Patsy watched in silent pleasure.  Sometimes it caught her by surprise.  That this really was Delia and she was getting the second chance she never expected to have.  And Patsy relished every moment.

Their fingers brushed when Delia handed her the cup.  Patsy felt her heart beat double.  Stomach swoop.  Felt like a teenager again, in the throes of her first crush.  Only bit back the lovesick grin by dint of pure will.  Because the expression on Delia’s face was pensive.

“We have a lot to talk about.”  Delia looked uncomfortable.  But her blue eyes were steely with determination.

“We do.  Ten year’s worth.”

“A lot has changed in ten years.”

“It has.”

“I’ve imagined this moment so many times.  Getting to see you again.”  A pause.  “Getting to know you again.”  Blue eyes glanced into hers for a second, before flickering away.  “And now we’re really here I’m not sure I can stand to know.”

“If you’re anything like me, you can’t stand not to know either.”

“Yes.”  Strained.  Barely audible.

The silence stretched into uncomfortableness.  Patsy’s fingers itched to light a cigarette.  And that gave her an idea.

“Delia?  Lie down.”  She gestured to the blanket, indicated that Delia should lie on one side.  Which the smaller woman did, slowly.  When she was situated, Patsy spun the other direction.  Lay so they were top and tail on the blanket.  Like they used to.

Delia sniffled quietly.  Patsy knew she had to get over herself.  Take the lead.

“So how are were going to approach this?  Do you want the potted history of Patsy Mount in five minutes or less?”

“What’s she like?”  Choked.  “Are you happy?”

And they were here already.  But of course they were, because Delia rarely shied away from anything.

“I was.”  A pause.  “We were supposed to be married three weeks ago.”

Patsy winced at the shuddering gasp emitted from the far side of the blanket.

“It was two days until the wedding. I was on my way home. On the tube.”  A pause.  “At Poplar Station I saw you on the platform.”  A longer pause as she thought about how to phrase the next part.  “I hadn't thought about you in a very long time. Deliberately so. Seeing you out of the blue like that…. And then getting your Facebook request.  It threw me for a loop. Brought back a whole lot of emotional stuff that I wasn't prepared to deal with…  That I hadn't shared with anyone.”

She could practically feel Delia’s attention, the smaller woman was almost vibrating with tension as she focused on what Patsy was sharing.

“I was a mess. She called me on it.”  A pause. “It… wasn’t pretty.  She's on holiday now.  It was supposed to be our honeymoon.”  Darkly.  “I was given strict instructions to get myself sorted out in her absence.”

“And have you?”

Patsy chuckled. Humourless.  “My therapist will tell you we’ve still got a long way to go.”

“What are you going to do when she gets back?”

“That’s the million pound question, isn’t it?”  A breath.  Another.  “Honestly?  I…  I’m going to tell her it’s over.  I hurt her.  I hurt her terribly by blocking the past out of my life.  By not sharing everything with her.  And now I think it’s past the point of reparation.”  Reflective.  “The reality is I never actually dealt with anything that happened in my life before.  I just locked all the emotions away and…  Now they’re back.” Patsy argued with herself for a long moment.  “Now _you’re_ back.”

  
A small hand bridged the gap between them.  Grasped Patsy’s.  Their fingers entwined automatically.  Like it was the most natural thing in the world.  And the future felt just a little bit more certain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Going to admit straight up that all my research comes from Google. I've been to London but never the locations here so please forgive any inaccuracies. Feel free to send through corrections as relevant.


	11. Dark and without hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Delia finally tells Patsy about her past.

The conversation moved on. Delia asked about the hospital, the project she was working on. Her favourite and most memorable patients. She asked about Trixie - it seemed Delia had been doing some of her own Facebook stalking. They talked about books and movies and travel and television and then Delia’s stomach let out an enormous growl. And the conversation was interrupted in favour of lunch.

Delia solemnly dug out package after parcel after container from the basket. Opened them to reveal bread and cheeses, charcuterie and pickled onions, dips and antipasti. They ate until they were no longer hungry. And then ate some more because it was all so delicious. Patsy collapsed, at last, onto the blanket. Groaned in discomfort and patted her slightly distended belly.

Delia laughed. Lowered herself onto the blanket marginally more decorously. Maintained a careful distance between them.

And then Delia began to talk. She weaved a tale of sadness and sorrow. Of depression and obedience. Of darkness and lost hope.

Her mother had taken her home to Pembrokeshire. Enrolled her back into the local school and didn’t let Delia out of her sight for months. Had dropped her off and picked her up every single day. And that, coupled with Delia’s return from the ‘hoity-toity’ private boarding school, ensured that she was singled out as a pariah. Had sunk over a period of months, of years, into a depression so profound she still felt the effects of it now in her thinking. In her outlook on things.

She’d barely passed her GCSE, had eventually dropped out of her A Levels. Had ended up working in the local market just to get herself out from under her mother’s thumb each day. It was there she’d met a guy, who was sweet and kind and generous and he saw something in Delia that she no longer saw in herself.

Mrs Busby was thrilled. Vindicated that Delia had gotten over her little phase. Her aberration.

She accepted when he asked her to marry him. Mostly because it allowed her to move out of home, to get away from the day to day control that her mother still exerted over her. But also because he loved her. And under his care she began to recover. Began to feel a bit more like herself again. Began to come alive.

Together they found a discreet therapist, and Delia continued to overcome her depression. Worked on strategies to find her independence. To stand up to Mrs Busby. To come out. He was surprised, but supportive. They moved into separate bedrooms and Mrs Busby was none the wiser for a time.

He helped her to start thinking about the future - something she hadn’t been able to do for a long time. Delia knew she’d missed her opportunity for medicine. She wasn’t sure she had the capacity for it any more, after the debilitation of her depression. But he gave her space to explore new ideas. And after one of his friends had a baby, Delia thought she might like to give midwifery a try.

Together they worked on her application to an institute in London. He supported her through interviews and entrance tests and was as overjoyed at her acceptance as Delia was. Ran interference when Mrs Busby attempted to meddle and intervene. Helped her to find a flat, and a roommate. And then quietly signed the divorce papers as he helped her to move into the new place.

They’d stayed in touch, of course. She loved him dearly.

Patsy tried extraordinarily hard to remain calm and rational as Delia said this. She was so glad that Delia had someone to look out for her. Someone to care for her. But her breath choked up in her throat, her chest felt like hot iron bands were tightening inexorably.

And they only constricted further when Delia talked about her first forays into dating women.

She’d met a few women through her work, a few more through her new interest in fitness. She’d gotten involved in a running club, because moving her body allowed her to switch off her mind. Because the exhaustion gave her some much needed peace in which to sleep.

None of the women she dated were serious. She learned enough to confirm that she really was gay, but none of them felt right. There had been one semi-serious relationship. She’d been a bit of an adrenalin junkie, had taken Delia bungee jumping and sky diving and rock climbing and then they’d tried parkour. Delia had been hooked, and when the relationship ended her obsession with the thrill had not.

And now she was single. Dated casually every now and again, but none of the relationships she’d had felt right.

“None of them made me feel like what I remembered feeling when I was with you.”

The bands crushing Patsy’s chest released in an instant. So fast she was light headed. Or that might have been her sitting up so she could look at Delia. See the truth in her anxious blue eyes. The Welsh woman stared at her with so much apprehension, so much tension. And such carefully suppressed hope.

“It’s still me?” Choked. “Even after all this time?”

Delia pushed up to her knees. Reached one hand towards Patsy’s face. Delicately stroked her cheek. Patsy’s whole body juddered in response. Her breath shallow with anticipation.

Blue eyes locked with hers and the rest of the world just melted away.

“I think… Oh Pats, I think it will always be you.”

She wasn’t sure who moved first. All she knew was that Delia was in her arms again. That her compact body fit perfectly against Patsy’s own. That her world was back in alignment once more.

That she wasn’t going to let go ever again.

 

* * *

 

 

She wasn’t sure how long they stayed there. But the sun had marched a long arc through the sky before she really became cognisant of their surroundings. Her back was stiff from sitting on the ground for so long, but Delia was in her lap, her head tucked into Patsy’s shoulder, arms threaded around Patsy’s waist, and she would have been content to remain there for all eternity. Sore back be damned.

A chill had begun to creep into the air though, and at last they both stirred. Disentangled themselves.

“Deels?”

“Hmmn?” The Welsh woman was methodically packing the leftovers into the picnic basket, almost in a meditative state. Patsy was loathe to disturb her.

“Delia?”

“Yes Pats?” Finally she looked up, and Patsy almost lost her train of thought when blue eyes met her own.

“I hate to be the one to throw a dampener on things.”

And she almost got distracted again, when Delia’s dreamy cornflower blue eyes chilled. Took on a hint of grey. It had always fascinated Patsy how readily the Welsh woman’s eyes communicated her mood and emotions. There was wariness in them now, and it reminded Patsy what she was trying to accomplish.

“Deels listen. You have no idea how thrilled I am that we’ve reconnected. It’s something I never even dared dream would happen.” She reached out and clasped Delia’s hand gently. “There’s nothing that I want more than to explore a future with you.” A wry grimace. “But I’m very conscious that I’m a bit of a mess at the minute.” A breath. “I think what I’m very clumsily trying to say is would you mind very much if we took things quite slowly?”

The Welsh woman’s eyes thawed, and warmed. A self-deprecating smirk curling one lip. “I’m not exactly the poster child for mental health here either.”

“You’ve overcome so much already. I can’t imagine what you’ve gone through.” A pause. “However I’m only just starting to plumb the depths of my emotional detritus. I fear I may have a long way to go.” A deep breath. “And I still need to end things with Lucy.”

“I know.” Patsy could hear how not okay Delia was with that. She understood. Hearing about Delia’s husband had been agonising. “I need to be able to see you though.”

“Of course. I think at this point I could no more go back to not seeing you than fly to the moon. You’re stuck with me.”

Delia giggled. More of a hiccup than a laugh. “We’re stuck with each other.”

“I think… Can we see each other without _seeing_ each other for a bit?”

“We can try”. This time Delia chuckled. Low and knowing.

Patsy’s stomach tightened in recognition.

“Deels…”

“It's alright Pats. I’m only teasing.” A pause. “Mostly. I remember what it was like. Trying to take it slow.” Reflective. “You’re right though. I think it’s better for both our sakes if we don’t rush into anything straight away.”

Patsy picked up the picnic blanket. Shook and folded it, and Delia tucked it away into the basket. The smaller woman hefted the basket effortlessly, then held out her hand.

“Shall we?”

Patsy let her hand slide easily into Delia’s. Smiled as their fingers linked. Their shoulders bumped as they walked close together. She pulled back her hand briefly as they approached a rubbish bin. Dug around in her jacket pockets until she found her cigarettes.

Looked at them mournfully for a brief moment before pitching them into the bin.

Delia’s delighted laugh was worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who has left comments and kudos. Each and every one is appreciated. Special thanks to my loyal band of frequent flyers. You guys make me happy. With your comments AND your stories.  
> If I haven't replied to a comment it doesn't mean I haven't read and cherished it.
> 
> I know this is a super speedy and short update. Time is running short, term starts day after tomorrow and it's going to be crazy busy. Don't know when I'll find time again for a while.


	12. New friends and old

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trixie and Delia get to know each other.

“You know I’m going to need to meet her.”

“Trixie…”

“Patience Mount, I am your best friend. There is no way that you can get away with me not getting to know her.”

“I know that, but it doesn't have to be now.”

“I may as well start immediately. Believe me, I’m going to be intimately acquainted with the woman you’re going to marry.”

“Marry! What..?”

“Sweetie, come now.” The look in Trixie’s bright blue eyes verged on pitying. “I know you. You mark my words, you’ll end up marrying her.”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“I most certainly am not. I bet you one hundred pounds you’ll be married by next spring.”

“For god’s sake…”

A small hand stuck out imperiously. Patsy goggled at her best friend.

“You can’t be serious Trixie.”

“Deadly serious sweetie.” She withdrew her hand, but fixed Patsy with a stern glare. “I’ll remember this whether you shake on it or not.”

Patsy could only shake her head. Bemused.

She’d come back from her picnic with Delia desperate to share her good news. Had dropped in on Trixie unannounced to find her entertaining one of the new young doctors. She’d been about to leave when Trixie had taken a good look at her face. Unceremoniously escorted him out the door and dragged Patsy onto the sofa, with a command to spill the beans.

Patsy had, coming as close to gushing as her reserved nature would allow. And now Trixie had jumped to such extreme conclusions she wasn’t even sure how it was possible to leap so many mental hurdles.

“We’ve got the early shift together on Thursday this week. Invite her out for a drink. Or dinner. Just organise something.”

Trixie was a nurse at the hospital where Patsy worked. They’d first gotten to know each other while Patsy was on her rounds, working her way through the different departments of the hospital. Patsy had stumbled upon Trixie’s favoured smoking spot on her first week of her placement, and the blonde nurse had taken her under her wing.

Trixie had been responsible for some of the best nights and the worst hangovers of her life.

There was no one in Patsy’s life that understood her the way Trixie did. Trixie’s family was well-to-do, her parents too self-absorbed to prioritise their daughter. Her father an unacknowledged alcoholic, her mother perpetually on the slow train to Valium-town.

So if she partied a bit too hard, drank a little too much, Patsy made sure she was there for her.

They became Christmas orphans, spending time together in the absence of family. But over the years their bond had grown until they became closer than kin. Trixie’s presence in her life soothed the loss of her own sister. She never doubted that if she needed something, Trixie would be there.

That didn’t mean that the thought of Trixie meeting Delia didn’t terrify her though.

 

* * *

 

 

> _Hi. Did you make it home alright?_

Later that evening, lying in bed - waiting for sleep to claim her - Patsy couldn’t resist the pull of her phone.

> _Of course. You did too?_
> 
> _I stopped by Trixie’s first. Remember how you said you wanted to see me?_
> 
> _Yes!_
> 
> _How do you feel about Thursday evening?_
> 
> _Great! Thursday works for me._
> 
> _There is one proviso however._
> 
> _???_
> 
> _Trixie wants to meet you. You can feel free to say no If that’s too much too soon._
> 
> _No I’d love to meet her too._

Great. Just bloody marvellous.

> _Okay then. Trix and I have the early shift so we can do dinner or drinks?_
> 
> _Why not both?_

Oh god. She wasn’t going to survive this.

> _Are you sure?_
> 
> _I’m very sure. Are you okay with it Pats?_
> 
> _I’m a bit nervous about it, tbh._
> 
> _I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. If you’re not okay we don’t need to. We could do something just us._
> 
> _No. No I’ll manage. I just think you and Trix are going to get on like a house on fire and god only knows what’ll come from it._
> 
> _Really Patsy, if you don’t want to do this now, it’s not a big deal._
> 
> _Not for you. Trixie is demanding to meet you sooner rather than later._
> 
> _Is she planning on asking what my intentions towards you are?_
> 
> _Knowing Trixie? I wouldn’t put it past her._
> 
> _Lol. Sounds like a challenge._

Patsy covered her eyes with her hands. Groaned piteously.

The empty house echoed the sound back to her. Mocking.

 

* * *

 

 

Patsy wondered if she were destined to spend the rest of her life in an exhausting state somewhere between elated and terrified. There was a constant feeling of euphoria. Overjoyed that Delia was back in her life and they were starting… something. But that joy was suppressed significantly by the awareness of Lucy’s impending return. And the prospect of Trixie and Delia meeting. In her agitated state it was honestly hard for Patsy to decide which was a more dreadful prospect.

Louise was helping her to sort out her priorities. Patsy rather got the sense that Louise approved of her decision to pursue a relationship with Delia. She would never be so unprofessional as to say it, but occasionally Patsy felt an inkling of bias on Louise’s part. That she was pleased by the romantic nature of it.

On the surface she imagined it seemed frightfully romantic. Finding your long lost love again. But the rom coms tended to downplay the heartache that was inevitably an unintended by-product of the grand romance.

The part where you had to formally break ties with your ex. Sort of ex.

The worry about who was going to move out, and how you were going to divvy up the shared items. The photos.

At least they didn’t have pets.

 

* * *

 

 

Thursday arrived, and Patsy was so sick with worry she almost called the whole thing off. Lucy was due back in two days, and Patsy wasn’t sure she could face the prospect of Trixie and Delia while nauseated by the imminence of Lucy.

Trixie, with the perceptiveness that made her such an excellent nurse, spotted the slight tinge of green in Patsy’s complexion. The tightness of her jaw. And avoided mentioning the dinner that evening by a feat of will that must just about have been superhuman. Patsy would have been impressed if she wasn’t trying desperately not to think about it herself.

Threw herself into her work with even more gusto than usual, and consequently the end of their shift rolled around much quicker than Patsy could account for. Just had time to race home and change and only tried on four different outfits before she settled on one that would do. Barely.

And if she took a little more care with her makeup than usual, well who was there to see? Or to witness her fighting with her up-do to achieve just the right “careless” effect.

Only felt mildly guilty that she’d never really put in this much effort with Lucy.

Terminally punctual, she arrived at Trixie’s chosen venue a solid quarter of an hour early. The bar was barely open, the waitstaff still setting up. It was one of Trixie’s favourite haunts, so the manager only rolled her eyes mildly at Patsy’s earliness. Pointed out the table with a Reserved sign.

As she waited, Patsy mused that it had been a good selection by Trixie. The food was excellent, if outrageously priced. The drinks were top shelf. And they’d spent enough evenings there that Patsy felt quite comfortable. Trixie has even contrived to book their favourite table. It was low, and surrounded by comfortable settees rather than the rigidly hard backed chairs that graced most other tables in the bar.

Not that she could relax in the slightest.

At least until Delia walked into the bar, and then every muscle in her body just about melted.

The Welsh woman was wearing a midnight blue cocktail dress. It clung jealously to her curves and accentuated every perfect part of her body, flaring delicately at the waist to fall to mid thigh. Narrow straps highlighted the muscularity of her shoulders and arms. The rich blue of the dress deepened the shade of her eyes. Dark hair loose, barely curling around her face.

Which flushed red as Delia registered Patsy’s intent gaze.

Their eyes met, and held. Matching shy smiles in place.

One breathless, perfect moment.

Broken when Trixie barged through the door. Almost bowled Delia over. She apologised, offhand, and then noticed Patsy’s face and did a double take.

“You must be Delia!”

 

* * *

 

 

It was like a train wreck, or a car accident. Tragic, but impossible to look away from.

Trixie had bustled Delia to their table, sat her down next to Patsy, and then proceeded to grill her about every minute detail of Patsy as a teenager. They’d hardly paused for breath in the last twenty minutes and Patsy felt her face flaming red to match her hair.

Why had she ever agreed to this?

As she fidgeted uncomfortably for the umpteenth time, Trixie sighed dramatically.

“Go and fetch drinks then, if you don’t want to listen. But for god’s sake stop twitching Patsy.”

She was off the sofa in an instant, and made it half way to the bar before stopping, chagrined. Returned sheepishly to the table.

“What would you like to drink Deels?”

“Just a cider thanks.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.”

Standing at the bar, waiting for the drinks to be prepared, she kept glancing back to the table. Orpheus, unable to resist the lure of a glimpse of Eurydice. Delia would look up every time. Blue meeting blue, and a warm fizzing glow would settle in Patsy’s belly.

It was extraordinarily addictive.

Back at the table she placed Trixie’s espresso martini in front of the blonde. Carefully passed Delia her pint. It was almost comically large in her small hands.

“Thanks Pats.”

Trixie’s ears perked up at that. “Pats? Oh this really is too delicious. I’m so very pleased to meet you Delia.”

The Welsh woman laughed, before raising her glass. “Here’s to new friends and old.”

Patsy clinked her gin and tonic against Delia’s pint. Smiled happily.

 

* * *

 

 

To say that Trixie and Delia got along well would be a gross understatement. They had clicked immediately, and their chat continued long after the topic of young Patsy had been exhausted.

Patsy almost felt like a third wheel at times. Delia must have sensed it, because she would frequently make some kind of contact - a touch on Patsy’s wrist, a hand laid on Patsy’s thigh, a meeting of blue eyes.

After they'd eaten their meal, were onto the third round, Delia excused herself for the bathroom. Squeezed Patsy’s shoulder as she rose from the table. Patsy tried to look away from Delia’s retreating figure. She really did. But the sway of Delia’s hips as she walked infallibly drew her gaze. She was almost certain it was deliberate.

“I've never seen you like this. It's a little bit adorable seeing straight laced Patsy Mount ogling like a love sick puppy.”

“Shut it Trixie.”

“Now now, there's no need to be tetchy about it.” The blonde’s tone was teasing, but her expression was one of warm happiness. “I really like her Patsy. She's absolutely lovely!”

“She is, isn't she?” Instantly forgiven.

“I just can't get over how smitten you are. You were never like this with Lucy.”

“I know.” Softly. “I feel so guilty about that.”

“Don't. It'll spoil things.” Trixie reached over. Clasped Patsy’s hand briefly. “It's perfectly obvious to me that you never really stopped being in love with Delia.”

“I never did. I just refused to acknowledge it.”

“And that's sad for Lucy. Even sadder for you. But you weren't to know.” A pause. “You were never dishonest with Lucy. You just didn't share all of yourself. Because it was already given to Delia.”

“What was already given to me?”

So intent their conversation neither of them had noticed the Welsh woman’s proximity.

“Oh, nothing important.” Airily. Trixie waved her hands in a careless motion. “Only Patsy’s heart.”

Patsy almost coughed gin and tonic out of her nose.

 

* * *

 

 

Conscious of work the next day, they didn't draw the evening out like Trixie probably would have liked. The blonde bestowed kisses on both their cheeks before buttoning her coat tightly. Waved cheerily as she clambered into the back of a cab. Leaving Patsy and Delia alone in front of the bar.

“Was it too painful for you?”

“What?” A brief chuckle. “No. I mean, Trixie did her best to make me uncomfortable at times. I'm just really glad you two get along.” A pause. “You're the two most important people in my life.”

Blue eyes widened. In surprise. In pleasure. And they stared at each other for a long, loaded moment.

Patsy swallowed hard. Blinked, and broke the gaze before she did something regrettable.

“How are you getting home Deels?”

If her voice was a bit strained, they both pretended not to notice.

“I’m not really that far from here. I might walk.”

“Are you sure that’s safe?”

“Yes Patsy. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

“Of course. I’m sorry.”

And then it was strained for a different, altogether less pleasant reason. Until Delia sighed.

“No, _I’m_ sorry Pats.” Softly. “I still don’t react well to being mothered.”

“I wasn’t trying to mother you.”

“I know.” A breath. “Thank you for looking out for me.”

“Always.”

Delia reached for Patsy’s hands. Clasped them in her smaller ones. Their fingers tangled as they stood. Drawing out their goodbye.

“We’ll do this again soon?”

“Perhaps without Trixie next time?”

“Yes.”

“I should go.”

“Mmm hmm.”

“It’s getting late.”

“It is.”

The grip on her fingers tightened as Delia used the leverage to pull herself towards Patsy. Placed a kiss on her cheek that glanced the very corner of her lips, before loosening her grip. Rocking back on her heels.

“Bye Pats.”

“Bye.”

She stood there for a good minute watching Delia walk away before shaking her head. Turned towards the tube station.


	13. Breaking up is hard to do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucy comes back from the Bahamas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a tough one to write, and it's short because of that. Despite the fact that angst is somehow often easier than fluff.

Lucy had texted late Friday night. Her sister was going to pick her up from Heathrow, so Patsy needn't bother.

It didn't make for a good night’s sleep.

And so she was already restless and out of sorts when she heard the car pull up outside. The murmur of familiar voices.

Patsy’s stomach clenched. Her heart contracted.

She braced herself as she heard the wheels of the suitcase manoeuvre the walkway. The click of the key in the lock.

“Honey, I'm home.”

It was half hope, half bitterness. Patsy wanted to cry. Or vomit.

Possibly both.

“Hello Lucy.” She’d been hovering uncomfortably in the kitchen, unable to sit down or settle to anything except drinking copious amounts of tea. And desperately ignoring her craving for a cigarette. “How was your trip?”

It was the lukewarm greeting reserved for acquaintances, not lovers. She didn't intend it that way. But in her discomfort it came out stilted. Forced even.

Made her guilt intensify as she watched the faint hope in Lucy’s green eyes wither and dim.

Patsy watched as Lucy blinked. A detectable shiver vibrating through her body. Turned to push the front door closed before squaring her shoulders, pivoting to face Patsy again.

“The Bahamas were beautiful. Warm and sunny and…” She trailed off as her voice cracked. Shivered again.

“You must be absolutely freezing. Let me make you some tea.”

Galvanised into action, Patsy hurried to the sink to refill the kettle. Bustled about preparing tea before rushing to the thermostat. Cranked the heating up. Patsy seized an afghan from the back of the settee, draped it over Lucy's shoulders as she sunk wearily into a chair. Hands clenched around the mug.

Finally, Patsy settled gingerly into the seat opposite. The table both a welcome barrier and a gaping divide.

“I'm too tired to beat about the bush Patsy.” A breath. “We’re done then?” It was so heart sick. So resigned. Lucy just looked so chilled and defeated.

It was enough to make Patsy question herself. Panic about whether her decision had been too hasty. Was on the tip of her tongue to deny it.

But then she thought of warm blue eyes and the smile reserved only for her. Took strength from it.

“I did as you asked Lucy. I saw a therapist. I'm still seeing her regularly in fact. And I saw Delia...” She faltered, unsure how to put it into words.

“Has she been here?” Hoarse.

“What? No!”

“Are you with her?”

“Lucy please. I can't believe you'd think so poorly of me.” Patsy took a deep breath. Consciously modulated her tone when she noticed Lucy barely perceptible flinch. “We’re just getting reacquainted for now.” A pause. “I still have too much emotional history to negotiate.”

Bloodshot green eyes glanced up, then blinked away. A tiny hand gesture mutely asking Patsy to continue.

“You were right Lucy. I just shut the door on everything to do with my past. And I didn’t let you in.” A shrug. “I didn’t let anyone in. Believe me, Trixie was as much in the dark as you were.” Threw her hands in the air. “ _I_ was as much in the dark, practically.”

“Please…” Disbelieving.

“No it’s true. Some things have resurfaced in my sessions with Louise that I’d blocked so deeply I didn’t really remember. Things about my mother. My family…”

“And her..?” Tortured.

“I remembered Delia.” Gentle. “I was just hurt and holding onto the feelings of sadness and abandonment. It helped me to push it all away.” A pause. “I honestly never believed I’d see her again. I thought that chapter of my life was long over.”

“But it’s not?”

“It’s not.”

Lucy cried then. Fat drops that welled out of reddened eyes. Trudged their way down wan, concave cheeks. Patsy sat, in agony. Unsure whether she should offer support. Whether it would be accepted.

Felt the sting of salt prickle her own eyes.

“So you’re just going to throw away three years of a life we built together?”

“I’m not throwing anything away.”

“That’s what it feels like. You’re just tossing me aside like a used tissue.”

“Please Lucy.” She reached across the table, unable to hear the pain in Lucy’s voice without trying to soothe it in some way. Stricken when Lucy pulled her hands out of reach.

“Don’t touch me.” Anguished. “I can’t bear it.”

Patsy clung to her composure by the slimmest of margins. Choked back the jagged shards of sorrow and guilt because this needed to be about Lucy.

There would be time enough to fall apart later.

“I’m not discarding you. I’m not replacing you.” A breath. “I am conscious of the fact that staying here… That remaining in a relationship with you… Would do us all a disservice. It wouldn’t be fair to you.”

“Shouldn’t I get a say in what is and isn’t fair for me?” Belligerent. “What gives you the right to determine what’s best for _me_?”

“Nothing.” A ragged breath. “Of course I don’t have that right. But what I do know is that I’ve never shared all of myself with you. I’ve always kept a part of me separate. And that’s not going to change.” A pause. “It can’t.” The tension made her head pound, her throat so tight it was an effort to form the words. “A part of me will always belong to someone else, and you deserve better. You deserve someone who can give themselves to you, whole and undiminished.”

Lucy’s gaze scorched her, the pain and reproach and censure so palpable it almost sent Patsy reeling.

But she held her ground and her gaze because she owed Lucy the truth.

“Three years Patsy. Three years of my life wasted when I could have been with someone who loved me.”

“I did love you!” The wounded gasp pierced her heart. Sunk it to the bottom of her rib cage. “Lucy I care for you so much. I want you to be so happy. But I know that it’s not going to be with me.”

 

* * *

 

 

Hours later, curled up on Trixie’s sofa with her head in the blonde’s lap and her arms clamped around her waist, Patsy simply sobbed. Devastated by her confrontation with Lucy.

She’d tried so hard to remain calm. To not inflame the situation, or Lucy, any more than humanly possible. But despite her best efforts their conversation had turned to recriminations and accusations. And finally Lucy had screamed at her to get out and Patsy had fled. With nary a change of clothes or anything, and so she found herself in uncomfortably tight pyjamas that came halfway up her calves.

For a long time she was too busy crying to notice. But when the tears finally slowed, then ceased, she laughed. Humourless and hiccup-y.

“I look bloody ridiculous.”

“No one cares what you look like right now, sweetie. You’re not going to make it onto the cover of Vogue looking like this, but we’re the only ones here to see it.” A pause. “I won’t tell if you won't.”

Patsy wasn’t sure what she’d do without her best friend.

 

* * *

 

 

She awoke in the faint light of dawn. Her head felt over-stuffed with cotton, her eyes swollen and tender. Her throat like she’d swallowed a fistful of shattered crystal. Stumbling into Trixie’s kitchen, she made a cup of strong, sweet tea. Sighed in relief as the steam cleared her nose, as the warmth soothed the ragged pain in her throat.

The tea was mostly gone by the time her eyes blearily focused on the overnight bag deposited on the counter. Her bag.

Trixie must have gone and collected some of her things after Patsy passed out last night. Her exhaustion debilitating after the confrontation. The tears.

A hot shower cleared away the last of the congestion, left her feeling slightly more human. The eyes that stared back at her from the foggy bathroom mirror were hollow, though. She looked drawn and haggard and pale. It was going to take a considerable effort to disguise it. Thankfully she had the late shift today, and didn’t need to tackle that gargantuan effort just yet.

Typically, there was nothing in the cupboards in Trixie’s kitchen that resembled breakfast. The blonde was more of a coffee and cigarette type person, but the former felt chancy, like it would irritate the lining of her stomach, and the latter was out of the question. She would have to go foraging.

Patsy pulled on some comfortable jeans - so worn they felt buttery soft and were liable to tear through if she looked at them wrong. A hoodie raised over her head in an effort to disguise her sallow, woebegone state, a pair of old trainers, and Patsy pulled the door quietly closed behind her.

She wandered the streets of Trixie’s neighbourhood, looking for a cafe or even a market. Somewhere she could get something vaguely nourishing to start the day. Until finally a tiny French patisserie caught her eye.

Two hot chocolates and a selection of pastries later, and Patsy felt she could face the world again. Barely.

She bought some pain au chocolat for Trixie, a token of her gratitude, and then made her way back to the blonde’s flat. Her steps heavier and increasingly laborious the closer she came. The closer to having to deal with her mess. This morning had been a brief and welcome respite, a chance to just simply be. Now she needed to do once more.

All Patsy really wanted to do was curl up somewhere warm and quiet and safe. With Delia.

But it was going to have to wait.


	14. An apology and a promise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patsy looks for a new place to live.

“You can stay here as long as you need sweetie.” Earnest blue eyes peered at her through a veil of cigarette smoke, the expression on Trixie’s face so genuinely welcoming that it was hard to refuse.

“I know Trix. You’ve opened up your home to me and I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it.” Patsy gestured about the room, indicated the boxes piled practically to the ceiling. “But it’s just not feasible for me to take up so much of your space.”

She’d returned to her home on Sunday to find boxes shoved haphazardly on the front stoop. To Lucy ruthlessly rummaging through shared belongings and carelessly throwing things into yet more boxes. She must have been working on it through the night, her eyes glazed and red, her movements jerky. Patsy winced as she cast a book viciously into the nearest open box. Her actions so uncharacteristic, so disrespectful, that Patsy was actually stunned.

Lucy had ignored her presence, her determination to pack (or discard) every last item of Patsy’s bordering on mania.

Lucy’s sister Helena had shaken her head when Patsy tried to intervene. Had gestured wordlessly for Patsy to follow her into the kitchen. Where the TARDIS teapot lay in shards in the corner.

Patsy only barely choked back a sob.

She’d had a painful, stilted conversation with Helena. Lucy’s older sister had been a big part of their lives, and she was clearly torn by the situation. But her natural loyalty lay with her sister, and so she’d been stern with Patsy. Arranged to have all of Patsy’s belongings laid out on the front porch so she could get a truck to pick them up later that day.

Patsy could do nothing more than thank her.

Took her keys out of her pocket and detached the house key from the ring by feel alone. Her eyes blurring with tears that she stubbornly refused to let fall.

Helena had squeezed her hand, just once, as she handed over the key. A sympathetic expression softening her features briefly, before a crash from the living room caught her attention.

Patsy had walked out of the house as Helena rushed off to check on Lucy. The click of the door as it latched behind her echoed, unnaturally loud. Punctuating the finality.

She’d managed to hire a van at the last moment, had single handedly stacked the surprisingly large assortment of boxes into the back and transported them the short distance to Trixie’s flat. She hadn’t realised how many possessions she’d managed to acquire in the last three years. A small, neatly taped box sat in the passenger seat beside her. It was marked FRAGILE in Helena’s neat, teacher handwriting, and Patsy fervently hoped that it contained the few precious treasures that remained of her mother’s.

Several of the larger boxes had tinkled ominously as she lifted them.

It had taken her longer than expected to move all the boxes, had been almost late for her shift that afternoon by the time she returned the van. Had worked back to back shifts when another doctor called in sick, and barely caught six hours sleep before she was due back at the hospital again.

So it was many days later before she stood in Trixie’s living room. Surveying the cluttered remains of her life and wondering what precisely she was meant to do now.

Despite Trixie’s protestations she knew she couldn’t stay at the flat for any length of time. Her best friend’s offer was heartfelt, but Patsy knew it wasn’t sustainable. Trixie needed her space as much as Patsy did. She knew that she’d already cramped Trixie’s style (and love life) by her presence. The nurse was never short of company, and although Patsy didn’t understand, she respected Trixie’s fierce independence and unwillingness to commit to anything that was not on her terms.

“I just don’t want you to feel like you have to rush off and accept the first dingy little hole that becomes available Patsy. You really are welcome here until you find your feet.”

A wry grin. “Don’t worry Trix. I’ve absolutely no intention of sharing some filthy student digs. I’ll find a nice place, but I’ll do it sooner rather than later.”

They both stared glumly at the mountain of mismatched containers housing Patsy’s possessions. She hadn’t had time to open more than a couple, mostly to confirm that the clinking sounds had indeed been indicative of broken items. Predominantly photo frames, but also a crystal decanter that her father had shipped to her to mark Patsy’s graduation from medical school.

She’d never liked the thing. It was just one more reminder that her father didn’t know her, or care to know her, at all. It still stung though.

Luckily the small parcel did contain her mother’s things. Carefully sandwiched between socks and scarves and winter mittens. Helena had obviously rescued them before Lucy had gotten to the bedroom. Or Lucy had decided to spare them. It was impossible to know.

Patsy was still shocked at Lucy’s behaviour. Not so much angry as bewildered. Honestly, she’d treated Lucy so abominably Patsy really felt she deserved just about anything that Lucy happened to dish out. But it was startlingly foreign seeing Lucy so brutal. So uncaring.

“You could hire a storage locker.”

“I could.” She turned to face Trixie. “And I certainly will if you can’t tolerate this mess at all. But if you could spare me a week or two it will save me having to shift it all twice.”

“Oh for goodness sake.” Exasperated blue eyes rolled. “I don’t care about that Patsy. I simply hate the idea of you rushing into something.” A pause. “It’s been a tumultuous couple of months for you sweetie. I’m concerned you’re not in the right frame of mind to be making big decisions.”

“I’m talking about a six month lease here Trixie. It’s not like I’m going to buy a penthouse on Canary Wharf.”

Trixie had reluctantly agreed to allow Patsy a chance to peruse the To Let listings on condition that she had veto on anything inappropriate. And in the end her hovering had driven Patsy to distraction and so Trixie took over, proudly presenting a bemused Patsy with a shortlist of potential dwellings that she deemed worthy of inspection.

“Now why don’t you call Delia and find out if she can come along and inspect them with you? I imagine she’ll be spending quite a bit of time at yours, she might as well get a say in it.”

Patsy had scoffed. Protested half-heartedly.

Then disappeared to her room to do precisely that.

 

* * *

 

Delia had been surprisingly subdued when they met up, traipsing good naturedly about inner London from estate agent’s offices to apartments to flats but offering little in the way of her customary commentary. Patsy noted it, saw the lingering shadows in blue eyes, the tightening of her mouth. But they were on a tight deadline, and when Delia grabbed her hand and tugged her along to the next rental property Patsy decided to bring it up later.

There had been a few decent apartments, but none of them really felt right until the second last stop on the agenda.

It was a flat in an older building. The outside looked careworn, but the security on the doors was recently updated. The elevator was slow, but smooth, disgorging them on the fifth floor into a corridor that looked like the set of a hotel in an old movie. The carpet soft, the walls clean, the brass sconces gleamed in the muted light.

Swinging noiselessly on well oiled hinges, the door opened to reveal a renovated apartment with a traditional feel. The fittings were modern, offset by timber floorboards, honest to goodness old fashioned picture rails on the walls, shutters on the windows and a sense of timelessness that permeated the space.

It was love at first sight.

Patsy wandered from the kitchen (stainless steel appliances) to the bathroom (a real claw footed tub!) to the bedroom (walk in robes, how did they even fit in this space?) to the large panel windows in the living room. And there she stopped, entranced by the late afternoon sunlight gilding the bare branches of trees in the park across the street.

After several moments she became of aware of Delia’s indulgent smile. Flushed self-consciously before dragging herself away from the window.

“Stop making fun of me.”

“I’m not!” Indignant.

“I can tell that you’re laughing at me.”

“I’m really not Pats.” A pause. “You already seem so at home here. I was just… Enjoying your enthusiasm.”

“Hmph.”

They stared at each other for a long moment as the light outside dimmed perceptibly. The sparkle fading from Delia’s eyes prompted Patsy to bridge the gap between them. Clasped small hands in her own.

“What’s wrong Deels?”

“What do you mean?” Delia pulled her hands away, voice brittle.

“Come on now. I can see that something is bothering you.” A pause. “It has been all afternoon.”

Delia’s expression hardened for a moment. Her mouth tightening in displeasure. Before the tension wilted suddenly from her shoulders and she stepped forward. Startling Patsy by wrapping her arms tightly around the taller woman’s waist. Patsy’s arms moved quite without her conscious permission. Threaded around Delia’s body and squeezed.

She could feel Delia’s heart beating against her chest. Feel the Welsh woman’s lips brush delicately against the skin of Patsy’s neck for a single, breathtaking second. Before she burrowed into the hollow of Patsy’s shoulder.

Patsy held her for an endless, beautiful moment. Allowed the scent of Delia’s hair, the feel of the petite body in her arms, to simply overwhelm her senses. Interrupted only when her phone chirruped incessantly. The estate agent checking when she was going to return the keys.

She didn’t let Delia escape though, held her hand as she finished up her conversation with the agent.

“Let’s go and return these keys. Put in an application. Then I’m taking you out for a drink and you can tell me what’s going on.”

Delia’s meek acquiescence was worrying.

 

* * *

 

An hour later she placed a pint of cider in front of Delia. Along with a packet of crisps and a menu. Opted to slide into the booth seat next to the smaller woman rather than across the table. Delia sipped her pint meditatively until Patsy could stand it not a moment longer. Cupped the Welsh woman’s jaw before gently tilting her head to face Patsy.

“Tell me. Please.”

“It’s my Mam. I spoke to her a few days ago for the first time in ages.” A breath. “My uncle Dafydd passed away. Mam is demanding that I go back to Wales for the funeral.” A pause. “I don’t think I can stand to.” Ragged.

“Oh Delia…”

“I want to pay my respects to Dafydd. I really do. He was my favourite relative when I was a child. He took me fishing and climbing trees and he never cared that Mam said girls shouldn’t do such things.” Delia shook her head, almost as if she were trying to clear out memories. “But I just can’t go back there. With her.”

“No one is going to force you to go Deels.”

“I know that. But it doesn’t stop me feeling guilty about it. My Aunty Megan must be devastated.”

Patsy’s heart clenched, responding to the forlorn longing in Delia’s voice. Moisture had started to gather in Delia’s eyes, building on her lower lashes until she blinked. Scattering crystal fragments across her cheeks.

“And I feel ridiculous complaining about things when I know you’re going through so much as well.” Voice taut and unsteady. “You had to deal with… The break up. And it clearly didn’t go well if you’re already looking for a new place.”

“Don’t even think about me now.”

“How can I not?”

“What?”

“You’re all I can think about most of the time.” A breath. “You didn’t call.” Barely audible. “Or text or message or anything. It’s been almost a whole week Patsy.”

“Deels…”

“I didn’t know what was going on. I thought…” Choked. “I thought maybe you’d gone back to her.”

“Never.” Vehement. “Oh Deels, I’m so sorry.” Heart breaking, Patsy took in Delia’s haunted, hollowed features. Slumped posture. Kicked herself for causing this grief. “Honestly Deels, that was never… NEVER… an option. I should have made that clearer.”

Delia gazed at her, caught somewhere between pain and grief and hope and Patsy hated herself in that moment. Despised the fact that she seemed to keep causing pain to the people she cared about. That she loved. It had to stop.

“Delia Busby, I love you. Don’t ever doubt that, do you hear me?”

The Welsh woman nodded slowly. Eyes still locked with Patsy’s.

“I’m not very good at feelings. At relationship things. But you need to know that I love you. I don’t think I’ve ever not loved you. I’m so sorry that you doubted that. That I made you feel that way.”

“I’m being silly because of my Mam…”

“You’re not.” Emphatic. “You’re not… You’re going through a horrible time and I wasn't there to support you or make you feel secure. I’m so sorry. Please forgive me.”

Patsy reached up, used her thumbs to gently wipe away the tears that had accumulated on Delia’s pale cheeks. Responded to the yearning in bright blue eyes by cupping Delia’s jaw. Drawing their faces together.

When their lips met it wasn’t the fireworks or the passion of their youth. It wasn’t about attraction or seduction.

It was a promise.

It tasted of salt and grief and experience and love. Of second chances.

As she drew back Patsy heard Delia sigh. Felt a delicate breath against her lips, the tension release from the compact body in her grasp.

Opened her eyes to see clear blue looking back. Bright and content and forgiving.

“I love you too, Patsy.”


	15. If I had a million dollars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patsy and Delia go shopping for Patsy's new apartment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Belle for the idea of Patsy taking Delia shopping for furniture at IKEA. It didn't quite turn out like your dream but I loved the idea so I went with it.

“I’m sick of hurting everyone that I care about.” Patsy risked a glance at Louise’s serene features. She was one of the most unflappable people Patsy had ever met, and it made her wonder, sometimes, what it was that made Louise upset. How she managed to deal so calmly with a string of people falling apart in her office every day.

“I feel like it shouldn’t be too much to ask that everyone in my life is happy.” She plucked at the cushion in her arms forcefully, trying to channel her frustration. Keep her voice steady. “That I can get through a day without making everyone miserable.”

“You’re a sensible woman Patsy. You don’t need me to tell you that you can’t make everyone happy all of the time.”

“But I shouldn’t make everyone suffer either. And that’s what it feels like. Hurricane Patsy, leaving a trail of devastation in her wake wherever she goes.”

“It’s not like you to be so melodramatic Patsy. I’ve only known you a short time, but this does seem uncharacteristic.” A pause. “What’s really causing this reaction?”

Louise paused. With that deceptively mild questioning expression that Patsy knew meant she wouldn’t get away with a deflection.

Patsy squirmed. Turned the cushion over and over in her lap as her brain tried to arrange itself into some semblance of order. Her stomach an amorphous mass of cloying, insistent anxiety. Centred on Delia.

“I feel inadequate.”

“In what way?”

“I don’t know how to help Delia. She’s dealing with her depression, and a new career, and now her family. I don’t want to make things worse for her.”

“Has she asked for your help?”

“What? No.”

“Then what makes you think you must help her?”

Patsy fell silent at that, the blatant ridiculousness of the question rendering her speechless.

“Patsy, you need to take care not to confuse Delia’s need for support with your desire to make things better. From what you’ve told me about Delia she’s a remarkably resilient young woman. I’m fairly certain that she’ll ask for your help if she needs it.”

“But I can’t just sit back and do nothing.” Belligerent.

“No one is asking you to, Patsy. You need to make sure that Delia understands she can rely on you. That she can feel free to lean on you and ask if she does need something from you.” A long pause. “But Patsy, you must understand that it needs to be about what Delia needs. Not what makes _you_ feel better.” Louise leaned forward, caught Patsy’s eye. “And you must take care to not let your own issues become subsumed by Delia’s. You must be in the strongest state possible in order to be the most effective support for her.”

And there it was, the thing that terrified her. She’d ruined what she had with Lucy because of her damaged past. “What if I hurt Delia the way I have Lucy?” Choked. “I’m so worried that _I’m_ the danger to her.”

Bewilderingly, Louise smiled. “Patsy, I believe you can take that off your list of concerns. We can never completely rule out hurting those we love. However, in my experience if you truly love someone, and you want what’s best for them, then the risks are infinitely less.”

“But I’ve already hurt her.”

“Of course. Because you’re here talking to me about this, not Delia. Communication is key Patsy. Tell her your concerns. I’m certain she’ll have some of her own to tell you. And then you’ll both know, and you’ll be able to work through things together.”

“It’s just not that simple.”

“Sometimes it can be.”

 

* * *

 

Her session with Louise had ended abruptly when the estate agent called. Her application for the apartment had been accepted, and the agent wanted to make a time for her to sign the lease and pay the first month’s rent.

Louise had rolled her eyes, but waved her out of the door when she answered the call.

She made an appointment to sign the lease the next morning.

The apartment was a little more expensive than she really wanted. But it was beautiful, and with the money she was saving by not buying cigarettes Patsy figured she wasn’t that much worse off. Added to the fact that it was closer to the hospital. And not that far from either Delia or Trixie, and Patsy felt like the extra rent was a worthy investment.

She stopped at the off licence for a bottle of bubbles on the way back to Trixie’s. Ordered curry to be delivered as the blonde would be getting home from her shift.

Settled down on the settee to message Delia. The Welsh woman was on duty at the clinic, but sent a string of happy emojis in response to Patsy’s announcement. And an excited affirmative when Patsy begged for her help to brave the crowds at IKEA.

Trixie was happy to see the Indian food and the sparkling wine. Less happy to know that Patsy had already secured an apartment.

“It’s practically around the corner Trixie. We’ll still see each other all of the time at work.” A pause. “I thought you’d be happy to get your space back.” Puzzled.

“Oh I am. But I’ve gotten used to you being around Patsy. I do believe I’m going to miss having you about the place quite so much.”

Patsy topped up the blonde’s glass. Set the bottle carefully down on the table before leaning forward to clasp Trixie’s hand. “You’re always going to be my best friend Trix. Nothing is going to change that.”

“Honestly Patsy, you think I don’t know that?” Exasperated, but the telltale tremor in Trixe’s voice, the almost imperceptible wobble in her bottom lip, were all the clues Patsy needed.

“You’re going to love it Trix.” A pause. “I’ll even let you come over and use the bath.”

“You have a bath?”

“Mmm hmm. And walk in robes.”

“Careful now Patsy. Or you might find yourself with an unanticipated roommate.”

 

* * *

 

Dr Turner was extraordinarily accommodating when Patsy knocked on her door to request a shift change in order to move. She cleared two days off Patsy’s roster just prior to her next day off, giving her a three day ‘weekend’ to get organised.

When Patsy stammered out her thanks Dr Turner waved her gratitude off. “I know how exhausting it is to move. That last time Patrick and I moved I nearly throttled him when he disappeared off to work before the removalists even left. Thank god Tim was there to look after Angela while I sorted out the bedrooms so we could at least sleep.” Her gentle Scottish accent thickened in remembered annoyance. “You take your time Patsy. Then when you come back I can rely on your mind being focused on your work, not worrying about which box the plates are in and how you’re going to cook that night.” She paused, then smiled. “Not that I ever have to worry about you not being one hundred percent focused on patient care.”

“Thank you Dr Turner.”

“Good luck. And enjoy your shopping.”

Patsy was not looking forward to furniture shopping. The thought of competing for space with hundreds of people while measuring beds and tables and trying to work out whether everything would fit was beyond daunting. The only bright spot was that Delia would be there with her.

That evening she went to the new apartment armed with a notebook and a tape measure, accompanied by a curious and amused Trixie. Patsy wanted to check that the electricity had been connected as promised. And to measure the floor space so she had a battle plan for her attack on IKEA.

She methodically measured and recorded the length and breadth of each space as Trixie wandered about, waxing lyrical about the closet space, the tub, and the lighting in the bathroom. Before perching on the kitchen counter and pronouncing the apartment quite fit for habitation.

“I’m so glad you approve, your majesty.” Dry. “Now can you please get your royal behind off the benches and help me measure the refrigerator cavity.”

She stood in the doorway for a long moment before they left. Visualising how the space would look as her home. Could almost see the bookshelves and the prints on the walls. Delia curled up on the sofa with a cat in her lap.

She’d have to ask the estate agent about pets.

 

* * *

 

She’d gone back the following night with an arsenal of cleaning products. The apartment hadn’t seemed dirty. Far from it. But there was something about living in a space that other people had used that made Patsy’s skin crawl. It was only hours later, after generous applications of bleach and abrasives to most surfaces (vertical, horizontal or otherwise) that Patsy felt it was suitably hygienic.

It was late by the time she was done. She was pleased by how quiet the building was. She’d yet to hear a peep from the adjoining apartments. The pipes, however, were noisy, in an ancient, grumbling kind of way. They clattered in annoyance when the hot water taps were engaged, but spewed out a reliable stream of scaldingly hot water. Groaned in discomfort when the toilet was flushed, but the water ran clear and fast and Patsy didn’t find the sounds of the copper work bothersome. Somewhere, in the dim recesses of her memory, the noise of old pipes was warm and comforting. She’d have to discuss that with Louise at some point.

Leaving a window ajar to vent the smell of bleach, she locked up the flat and smiled contentedly.

Tomorrow she would see Delia.

 

* * *

 

They met at the tube station at 8:30am. Patsy came prepared with coffee and pastries and Delia looked almost pathetically grateful as she sipped on her drink. Had perked up considerably as they drew nearer to their destination.

Patsy was more than content to quietly absorb the Welsh woman’s presence. They sat, close together, as commuters boarded and alighted around them. The train had largely cleared by the time they arrived. Patsy collected their litter, dropped it into the nearest garbage bin as they exited the station.

Caught her breath when Delia reached for her hand. Let their fingers entwine.

Knew she was probably grinning like a fool, but couldn't bring herself to care.

They arrived not long after the store opened, precisely as she had planned.

And the store remained relatively quiet while they perused the display kitchens, and Patsy selected a table, and chairs and various bits and pieces that caught her eye or that Delia looked at a little too longingly. It was still moderately empty while they sat on various couches, and discussed the merits of a sofa bed. It was a close call, but eventually they found one that was practical and still comfortable and so Patsy was convinced. In case someone needed to stay over. Or she wanted to lie in bed and watch the television.

That particular argument was accompanied by the slightest smirk, the barest raised eyebrow. Patsy got uncomfortably hot under the collar for several minutes. Had to concentrate very hard on colour swatches to disperse the sudden vision of Delia wrapped around her on the sofa bed thoroughly ignoring the program on the screen.

By the time they got around to the bedroom settings there was a steady procession of pedestrian traffic along the path. Which was probably just as well, because Delia reclined on one of the beds with a look in her eye that was nothing short of x-rated, and Patsy found it extraordinarily hard to resist. Sputtered ineffectually for a moment before Delia took pity on her and stalked off to check bed measurements. The bedroom was fairly small, and given Patsy’s height it was a challenge to find something to accommodate both Patsy’s frame and the room’s dimensions. In the end they found a larger bed with built in shelving, eliminating the need to allow room for bedside tables. Patsy was rather chuffed. She’d always fancied built in bookshelves. And a window nook, but this was a start.

Office space was next. She settled on a cute little extendable desk that would sit nicely in the corner. And then the serious work began. The bookshelves.

“Honestly Patsy, how many books do you own?”

“Enough.”

Delia simply sighed at Patsy scrutinised the dimensions of yet another set of shelves.

“Don’t you lecture me about books Delia Busby. I guarantee that three quarters of the possessions you own are books.”

“Of course they are.” Flippant. “But a bookshelf is a bookshelf Pats. It’s not rocket science. It’s a flat surface to put books on.”

Was about to shoot off a snide comment when she caught sight of the time. Studied Delia’s face for a moment, before stepping in front of the smaller woman.

“Can you give me a few more minutes Deels? I promise I’ll be quick, and then I’ll take you to get something to eat.”

Delia bristled defensively for a split second, before wilting. “Damn it Patsy.”

“It’s okay. You still get hangry.” A pause. “I should have thought.”

And so, minutes later, they hustled through to the cafe. Delia paused for a barely discernible moment as they hurried past the children's section. Patsy noted that away for future reference.

 

* * *

 

In a much better frame of mind they set off to tackle the Market Hall. For Patsy, this was a far more daunting prospect. The larger items like sofas and tables were one thing. But it was the sheer volume of things she would need to populate a kitchen and bathroom and various spaces around a home that were daunting.

Delia, much fortified by her meatballs and cake, took charge. And with an efficiency that was frankly just a little bit alluring proceeded to fill the trolley with the bare essentials, conferring with Patsy only insofar as determining colours and occasionally number of items.

By the time they got to rugs and lighting the trolley was bulging.

Patsy acquired one of the large flat pallet trolleys and selected some rugs for the living room. She loved timber floors, but they were chilly in winter and she didn’t want to freeze her toes off stepping out of bed. Or off the couch.

They finally made it to the warehouse section, narrowly avoiding bringing home plastic plants by virtue of there being literally no space left in the trolley. It had gotten to the point where Delia simply looked longingly at something and Patsy sighed. Found a space for it. To be fair it had mostly been things she’d thought about anyway. A nice lamp for the desk. A clock. Some ridiculously fluffy bath mats.

Together they wrestled the appropriate large flat pack boxes into a tenuously balanced pile on the trolley. Wheeled them with no little difficulty to the front counter.

The acne ridden teenaged boy at the checkout had taken one look at their bulging trolleys. Sighed mightily before starting to scan items one by one.

After five minutes he was only a third of the way through. Patsy shuddered.

“Do me favour. Don’t tell me what the total is, alright? There’ll be enough to cover whatever it is. I just don’t want to know right now.”

The attendant shrugged. Tilted the display screen away from Patsy. “Whatever you say, lady.”

When he was finally done, Patsy handed over her credit card. Tried not to notice the epic wince that Delia couldn’t suppress when she caught sight of the total.

One last stop at the delivery counter, and then they were temporarily free of their burden.

Delia heaved a comically large sigh of relief. Grinned cheekily up at Patsy.

“If you can stand it Deels, I’ve got one more stop I need to make. I’m going to need a fridge.”

 

* * *

 

As it turned out, she needed a fridge AND a TV. A microwave. A coffee maker. A toaster (she conceded that one). A blender. And a stupidly expensive stand mixer that she’d desperately wanted for years but always argued herself out of. Delia could be very persuasive.

It was late in the afternoon before they got back. They stood outside the tube station, staring quietly at each other as commuters pushed past them in the afternoon rush.

“Can I buy you dinner as a sign of my undying gratitude for your help today?”

“Don’t be silly Pats. It was fun.” A pause. “But you can definitely buy me dinner anyway.” Another pause. “Can you even afford that after today?”

“Hush.”

Delia giggled, light and carefree and Patsy would have spent every penny she had a million times over to hear it.

She reached out a hand, delighted when the Welsh woman reciprocated without hesitation. Tugged her in the direction of a nice little Italian place down the street.

“Come on. A big bowl of pasta is calling my name. And a glass of wine.”

Delia nodded happily. And Patsy’s heart thudded contentedly at the domesticity of it all.

This could work. It really could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on tumblr a bit lately. Find me @ lazyboo if you want to chat fanfic or CtM or politics or fandom whatever.


	16. Coming home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Delia helps Patsy to construct her new furniture.

Dinner had been going splendidly, the conversation light and cheerful, and Patsy was loathe to lower the mood. But she was conscious of what Louise had said - aware that she needed to get some of her concerns out on the table. And she was frankly worried about how Delia was coping with her decision to not go back to Wales. She’d brushed Patsy off earlier when she’d asked, made an offhand comment. Patsy knew it must be eating her up though.

She waited until there was a lull in the conversation. In the meal. Reached across and held the Welsh woman’s hand. Paused momentarily at the sheer luxury of being able to do so. At the small, startled but happy smile on Delia’s face.

“Deels?”

“Hmmn?”

They stared at each other for a beat. Identical love struck expressions on their faces.

Patsy struggled to regain her train of thought. Bemused that Delia could so effortlessly reduce her to teenaged befuddlement and fatuousness.

“Delia… How are you?”

She was so bad at this sometimes, she wanted to kick herself.

“I’m fine?” More question than statement. Patsy couldn’t blame her. It wasn’t exactly a sterling opening gambit.

“How are you holding up? With your uncle, and your family and all that?” Barely suppressed a wince as the smaller woman’s eyes turned from serene blue to turbulent grey in a heartbeat. “I don’t mean to pry. I’m just… I just want to know if there’s anything I can do to help. You.” Rushed and breathless.

It was almost like stepping outside in the middle of a thunderstorm. The air felt suddenly charged and chill and unpredictable.

Delia pulled away from Patsy’s grasp. Visibly shrunk into herself. Patsy’s heart constricted in sympathy. And just a little bit of hurt. Thought about Louise’s reminder that she needed to remember this was about Delia.

Pushed aside her bruised feelings.

“I know there are lots of things you probably don’t want to talk about. And that’s fine, of course it is.” A breath. “It’s just that… My therapist thinks that I should share my concerns with you so that… Well, so that we’re both on the same page, I suppose.”

Delia stared at her, wary and impassive. Patsy was seriously starting to doubt the merits of this plan, but it seemed too late to retreat now.

“I’m afraid that I’m going to hurt you in some way Delia. Afraid that my emotional state is going to end up having a negative impact on you. I mean, look at the way my last relationship just imploded.” This whole talking thing was excruciating. She gulped down a large mouthful of wine, to fortify herself. “This is not to say that I don’t want to continue down this path with you. I do! I just… Sometimes I look at you and I think about how much you’ve been through and I’m terrified that being with me will make things worse for you.”

“Pats…”

“No listen. Please let me finish before I make an even bigger mess of it.” A deep breath. “I just really need you to know that I want to support you in whatever way I can. And if that means going to Wales and taking on your mother then I’ll do it. And if it means buying you chocolates when you’re sad then I’ll do that. And if it means just shutting the hell up and never bringing it up again then I’ll do that too.” Another breath. “I love you. And I just want what’s best for you. And I’m painfully aware that I’m not perfect, that I am absolutely going to fuck up because I just don’t seem to have a good handle on this whole relationship thing. But Deels… Please give me a chance. If there’s something I can do… If there’s _anything_ I can do, just tell me.”

Almost panting for breath, heart racing, Patsy stared at the smaller woman across the table.

Delia’s expression had softened as Patsy spoke, eyes warming back to blue. They glistened now, the candles in the room causing gold flecks to shimmer and sparkle. Like the quicksilver light reflecting off a fast flowing brook on a hot summer’s day. Patsy felt some of that heat as Delia reached across the table. Laid her palm on Patsy's cheek.

“Oh Pats…”

Their surroundings faded out for a long moment. Eyes locked, Patsy simply willed Delia to see the truth, to gauge her sincerity and to not find her wanting in some way. Barely daring to breath.

Finally, Delia blinked. And the world came back into sharp focus.

“I think you’re doing a fairly good job of this relationship thing, if you ask me.”

“Hardly.”

“Neither of us are saints, Pats. I’ve got my share of issues. Probably more than you do, if I’m honest.” A breath. “Not that it’s a competition.” The Welsh woman chuckled darkly. “I can’t promise that any of this is going to be easy. But that doesn’t mean it’s not worth it.”

“It’s absolutely worth it.”

“I think so too. I never expected that I’d get the chance to see you again. Let alone to start over. And I’m beyond thrilled.” She reached across the table, caught Patsy hand. “I don’t want to talk about any of the other stuff now. Okay?” A squeeze. “But I promise, if there’s anything that you can do to help, I will tell you.”

“Alright.”

“Yes?”

“Yes.”

“And you must do the same. If there’s something you need from me, just tell me.”

“I will.”

“Good.”

They paused, letting the significance of the moment settle in. Before Patsy smiled.

“Actually, there is something you can do.”

“Anything.”

“Well you see, I’ve got this pile of flat pack furniture that must be built…”

 

* * *

 

Delia had an early morning shift, but she was determined to stop by and help afterwards. She’d knocked on the door around half four with early dinner and a celebratory bottle to find a frazzled and exhausted Patsy and boxes in various states of emptiness and deconstruction strewn _everywhere_.

Patsy almost wept with relief at the prospect of a second pair of hands.

The day had been an exercise in frustration, starting with the delivery drivers being moderately late and then having the temerity to arrive at the same time. Thankfully the guys from the electronics company had helped out by unboxing the fridge and getting it set up in the cavity while she managed the IKEA delivery. She badgered them into placing the boxes into roughly the right areas in the flat and not just dumped into one giant pile in the living room.

After they’d gone she stood in the kitchen with a box cutter in one hand and a screwdriver in the other wondering exactly where to start.

By the time Delia had arrived she’d put together approximately half the bed (the long ends eluded her and lead to bouts of swearing when she couldn’t balance them by herself), the chairs but only half the table (for the same reason as the bed with a similar quantity of colourful language), around three quarters of the bookshelves and the desk.

Patsy was aching all over.

Delia ordered Patsy to sit down, and then dug around in the packages until she found the glasses. A quick rinse, and then she was pressing a glass of wine into Patsy’s stiff and tired hands. Chinese eaten straight from the cartons served to rejuvenate Patsy somewhat, and by the time she’d drunk a second glass of wine she was raring to go again.

They tackled the bed first, and within half an hour they had it constructed and made up with the new sheet sets and quilt. It was extremely inviting, for more than one reason. As Patsy bent to smooth the coverlet she spotted Delia eyeballing her arse. The wine had loosened her up just enough to contemplate grabbing the smaller woman and tossing her down on the freshly made bed. But she caught sight of the the pile of boxes still to be dealt with. Sighed heavily.

The table was next, then they split up to handle the rest of the bookshelves and the chest of drawers in the closet. Delia emerged victorious from the bedroom as Patsy hammered in the last nail in the last bookshelf. They spent half an hour breaking down the empty boxes and carting them to the garbage facility on the ground floor, before regarding the sofa bed with some trepidation.

Around ninety minutes, a flurry of bad language and a heavily bruised forearm later, the sofa bed stood ready. Patsy opened and closed it a couple of times to confirm that they’d done it right (the instructions were not as straightforward as IKEA instructions usually were), then collapsed blissfully onto the cushions. Delia laughed quietly. Followed suit.

“Thank you so much for helping me out with this. I literally would not have been able to do this without you.”

“You’re welcome.” A pause. “It was kind of fun. Except for the sofa bed.” She thumped the cushion reproachfully.

“Ugh. Yes. Remind me never to buy a flatpacked couch ever again. Next time I’ll just pay extra to have it delivered whole.”

The pair sat quietly. Regaining their breath. Conserving energy. As the silence drew out Patsy became acutely aware of the woman next to her. Of the subtle scent of her perfume. The bead of sweat drying in her hairline. The glow of exertion. The mere inches between them.

It was easy, so easy, to reach out a hand. To push the lock of dark hair that had come loose from her ponytail back behind a delicate ear. To run a finger down the line of Delia’s neck.

Delia’s sharp intake of breath caused her heart to stop momentarily. Double its pace.

The air between them thickened. Patsy would have been astonished that she couldn't see flickers of electricity if she’d been able to think coherently. Instead, her world narrowed to a pair of blue blue eyes that were looking back at her so openly. So knowingly.

The tension was exquisite. She held it for an endless moment. Relished the force of the attraction she could feel. Revelled in it.

In her peripheral vision she saw Delia lick her lips absentmindedly. It was enough to break the spell.

Surged forward the last few centimetres to finally - _finally_ \- press her lips against Delia’s.

The sensation of absolute rightness was overwhelming. Of coming home.

It was slow at first, as they reacclimatised to each other. Nothing but the brush of lips against each other. Then Delia whimpered softly, deep in the back of her throat.

Patsy flared white hot.

Pulled Delia close, practically onto her lap, as she deepened the kiss. The first slide of her tongue against Delia’s and her mind shorted out, the taste and the smell and the feel of it at once so familiar and comforting and yet new and thrilling.

Regained her senses sometime later as Delia gentled her movements. Stroked Patsy's cheek as she broke the kiss.

Patsy didn’t bother trying to suppress her grumbled disappointment.

Opened her eyes to see shining cornflower blue smiling back at her. Heart thudding contentedly, Patsy grinned back. Pressed her forehead against Delia’s and just basked.

“God I missed that.”

“Mmmm hmmn.”

“I really want to do that again.”

“What’s stopping you?”


	17. Settling in / settling down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patsy is done with moving in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your patience guys. I know it's been a long ass time. The end of the school year was hard, and it's taken me a while to unwind.
> 
> Hope everyone had a great holiday season and new year.

Delia had gone home soon after.  Patsy had protested, but the yawns threatening to split her head in two really spoiled the mood and clinched the deal.  She’d walked the Welsh woman to the door, propping it open with her foot as she hugged Delia.  Held the embrace for far longer than necessary as she got lost in Delia’s scent.  Delia had giggled at Patsy’s contented murmurs, leaned up on her toes to press a lingering kiss on willing lips.

“Go and lie down before you fall down.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Don’t be daft, Pats.  Get some sleep.  I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“That’s too far away.”

“You really are exhausted, aren’t you?”  A fond look, then a small hand shoved her forcibly away.  Inside the door.  “Goodnight Pats.”

“Night Deels.”

The door was almost closed when Patsy shook herself.  Yanked the door open and leaned against the frame.  Watched the smaller woman walk to the elevator and press the button to summon the lift, steadfastly keeping her eyes on the doors.

“It’s not nice to ignore people, y’know?”

Even from that distance Patsy could see dark eyebrows lift.  Heard the exasperated sigh.

“A girl could get a complex.”

“Oh for the love of…”

A muted ding heralded the arrival of the elevator car.  As the doors whooshed open, Patsy tried one last time.

“Delia?  I love you.”

The Welsh woman paused halfway into the lift.  Couldn’t suppress an affectionate smile.  “Love you too, Pats.”

Patsy leaned against the door for a long moment after the elevator descended.  Summoning the energy required to find her way to the bedroom and get changed.  Startled when the door across the hall opened quietly.

“Oh.”

“Good evening, lass.”  A formidable looking older woman peered at Patsy across the corridor, dressing gown yanked closed.  Her tightly curled hair close cropped, the lines on her face stern and severe.  “In future I’d appreciate if you’d say your goodbyes _inside_ the flat.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.”  Mortified.  “I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

“It’s quite alright, you weren’t to know.”  A pause.  “The walls are thick for good reason.”  The woman’s lip curled, her eye dipping into the barest of a wink.  “Well, goodnight lass.”

Patsy could only sputter in response.

 

* * *

 

She could have slept for England that night, her fatigue and elation combining into a powerful sedative.  Struggled to focus her eyes on her watch the next morning to find that it was almost ten and Trixie was due in fifteen minutes.

That gave her at least half an hour to have a shower and get dressed.

In fact, Patsy had arranged the bathroom, and made a start on finding homes for cutlery and crockery in the kitchen before a sharp rap echoed from the door.   It opened to reveal a ticked off blonde, who thrust luggage in Patsy’s direction whilst complaining bitterly about the lack of parking and the utter rudeness of drivers in London these days.

A tirade that she kept up throughout several trips back to the car to collect boxes and bags.

The steady stream of invectives finally slowed and petered out as the last boxes were deposited into the corner of the living room.

Trixie rotated as she eyed the new additions.  “Well done sweetie.  It looks wonderful in here.”  Stalked into the bedroom and the bathroom before sinking gracefully onto the sofa.  “I can’t believe you got all this done yourself.”

“I didn’t.  Delia came by last night to help.”

A smug grin was her only response.

One last trip back to Trixie’s ensured that all Patsy’s possessions were now in the new flat, and then her best friend took great delight in rummaging through the boxes and bags.  By early afternoon everything had a home and was in its place.  With the exception of several items of clothing that Trixie claimed as payment for services rendered.

Patsy knew better than to argue.

As she left for her late shift, Trixie pressed a kiss to Patsy’s cheek, nudged a small wrapped parcel into her hand.  Scurried out the door before Patsy could so much as murmur a thank you.

Patsy opened it cautiously to reveal a framed photo of the two of them.

It found an immediate home in pride of place on the bookshelf.

 

* * *

 

Laden with bags of groceries, Patsy stepped out of the elevator later that afternoon to a most extraordinary sight.  Delia was in the corridor, and her heart pulsed in joyful recognition.  That in itself wasn’t wholly unexpected.  She’d had an inkling that the Welsh woman might drop by on her way home, hence her trip to the market to procure supplies for supper.  What was shocking and perhaps worrying was that she was chatting earnestly with the neighbour across the hall.  The same one who had left Patsy flabbergasted the previous night.

So deep in conversation that Patsy was practically on top of them before Delia noticed.  Blue eyes lit up in unabashed pleasure at the sight of her.

Patsy’s knees got just a little bit weak.

“Patsy!  Come and meet Phyllis!  She’s been telling me the most incredible stories of her adventures.”

“Oh, we met last night kid.”  Her face, so dour yesterday, was stretched into a genial smile.  “Although we didn’t get all the way to proper introductions.”

Patsy felt her face grow hot in remembered embarrassment.  Studiously ignored Delia’s curious gaze.  “Indeed we did.  It’s nice to properly meet you.”  Hastily put down the grocery bags to extend her hand.  “Patsy Mount.”

“Phyllis Crane.”  Phyllis’ handshake was precisely as firm and forthright as Patsy predicted.  “Settling in okay lass?”

“Yes, thank you.  I’m all done now so there’ll be no more back and forth with boxes and deliveries.”

“That was quick.”  The older woman nodded in approbation.  “No point dragging it out I say.  Now you’ve got plenty of time to enjoy your new space.”  Her northern accent clipped her words, making even her approval sound somewhat harsh.  “Well, I’ll leave you to it then.”

“Oh, do come over for a cup of tea.”  Patsy was torn between slight disgruntlement that Delia would invite someone into her home, and delight that Delia felt free to do so.  “I’d really love to hear some more of your stories.”

“Another time kid.  Right now it’s time for me to make some supper.  And you too, I’ve no doubt.”

“Bye Phyllis.”

“Good night girls.”

 

* * *

 

Patsy puttered about in the kitchen, preparing some pasta for supper.  Heart bursting with quiet contentment as she watched Delia prowl around the flat.  Touching small items.  Leafing through books.  Exclaiming over photos.

The Welsh woman ambled to the table when she was done, flopped into a chair.  Rested her chin on her hands and let out an enormous, happy sigh.

“What?”

“Oh, it’s nothing.”

“Deels…”

“It’s just…  I can’t quite believe that I’m sitting here.  After so many years of…”

“I know.”

Supper was a quiet, subdued affair.  Not because it was strained or tense, but because they were both loathe to break the peaceful bubble that had descended.  They cleared away the dishes together, and Delia made tea while Patsy found something meaningless to watch on the telly.

It was domestic and mundane and unexciting and Patsy was so grateful her heart could barely contain it.

When the show was over and the tea was drunk, they sat on the sofa for a long, silent stretch of minutes.  Delia’s head resting against Patsy’s shoulder.  She finally stirred.  Stretched.

“I should be off.”

“Mmmm hmmm.”

“Thanks for supper.”

“Any time.”  Sincere.  “Thanks for dropping by.”  A pause.  “Delia?”

The brunette had bent to pull her trainers on.  A muffled enquiry issued from somewhere near the floor.

“Delia, what nights are you free in the next week?”

“The roster’s just changed, I’ll need to check and get back to you.”  Curious.  “Why?”

“Well I was thinking…  we’ve always managed to skip some of the fundamental stepping stones of relationships, so…”  She really shouldn’t be so nervous.  For all intents and purposes they were already a couple, it shouldn’t be so hard to just spit this out.  “Would you…  would you like to go on a date with me?”

A breathless look, blue blue eyes shining in shy wonderment.  And she was glad she wasn’t the only one affected.

“Yes Pats.  I’d love that.”

“Good.  Text me your free evenings when you find out, and I’ll make arrangements.”

The Welsh woman nodded.  Stepped forward until there was just a semblance of space between them.  Patsy could feel the heat radiating from Delia’s body.  Could hear her breathing change as their eyes locked and held.

A precious moment of anticipation, and then arms were around her neck and lips were pressed against hers and Patsy wondered to herself why they hadn’t been doing this all evening.  Before she gave up thinking altogether and abandoned herself to the sensations.  It was such a amazing gift, to be able to do this.   To not have to listen for interruptions, to not worry about consequences, to not panic about who might find out.  To have the time and the freedom to just kiss her girl and everyone else be damned.

She actually chuckled in delight, and Delia, her beautiful, irrepressible Delia, laughed right along with her.  Because she knew.  And she understood.


	18. It doesn’t matter if I’m with you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their first date doesn't quite go to plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On a roll. Going with it.
> 
> My partner asked if I have a plan and really, I do have a vague plan. I know how it's going to end and there are some signposts along the way, but I'm letting them just tell their story. You wouldn't believe how much they have a life of their own.

The hospital was a whirlwind of activity when Patsy arrived for her shift the next day.  The three days she’d had off felt like weeks as she caught up on patient notes and checked in with Dr Turner.  She was particularly concerned about one of her long term patients, who’d previously been admitted with a suspected miscarriage.  Dr Turner had worked with Patsy to save the pregnancy, and now, months later, the patient had reported cramping and bleeding.  The mother had been assessed and the baby appeared to be healthy, if a little small given the stage of pregnancy.  Strict bedrest and regular checkups had been recommended, much to Patsy’s relief.

Patsy put that out of her mind as she delved into the piles of patient notes and referrals and rounds to complete.

She’d scarcely had time to grab a protein bar to get through the day, so at the end of her shift the message on her phone was a welcome surprise.  Delia had sent through her schedule for the entire month, and Patsy hoped fervently that it was because Delia expected to see more of her.

She compared their schedules on the tube home, carefully marking the overlapping free evenings (and more rarely days) on her calendar and setting reminders for herself.  There was absolutely no reason to miss any opportunity.

Patsy called her favourite restaurant and booked a table before texting Delia.

> _ Tomorrow evening.  Should I pick you up or would you prefer to meet me at the restaurant? _
> 
> _ I’ll meet you.  I appreciate the chivalrous gesture but we’ll get the most time together if we meet halfway. _
> 
> _ I like the way you think. _
> 
> _ That’s not all you like me for. _

She almost missed the stop staring at her phone.  Faintly scandalised and suddenly, uncomfortably warm.

> _ Sorry.  Was that too much? _
> 
> _ No!  I just had to get off the train. _
> 
> _ So where are we going then? _
> 
> _ I’ll link you the details.  7pm.  I can’t wait. _
> 
> _ Me too.  See you tomorrow Pats. _

Before she went to bed Patsy spent a good half hour selecting her outfit for their date the following night.  Hung her dress carefully on the hook on the back of the door.  Methodically set out her shoes and jewellery and even the lingerie to match.

She was nothing if not prepared.

 

* * *

Drawn out of a luxuriously pleasant, marginally torrid dream about what Delia would look like out of her date outfit, Patsy was forced to deliberately slow her breathing before answering the emergency call.  Bit back a frustrated groan when she caught sight of the number.  It was Dr Turner’s personal phone.

The car arrived only a few minutes later.  All traces of her fatigue subsumed by worry.  Her patient had gone into premature labour, waters breaking around 3am.  It was almost four as the car pulled into the emergency bay.  Patsy thanked the driver and bolted for the doors, held open by security.

Patsy couldn’t say for certain how the next fourteen hours passed.  The last thing she clearly remembered was gowning up on autopilot, briefing with Dr Turner before they went into the surgical unit to deliver a baby eleven weeks premature.  The baby came out tiny and still and silent, in a gush of blood and pain, and Patsy spent her time assisting Dr Turner to stop the mother’s hemorrhaging, before rushing off to check on Dr Turner and his progress with the baby.

She could not have feasibly counted the times she made the journey between the two theatres.

By 6pm, all they could do was wait.  The mother had been stabilised, however her uterus had been damaged beyond repair and they’d been forced to perform an emergency hysterectomy.  All the while the baby continued to deteriorate.  Scans had shown that the infant, a little boy, had been born with a serious defect.  His oesophagus was not joined properly to his stomach, and his abdominal cavity was filling with stomach acid and blood.  Dr Turner had to perform almost microscopic surgery on the tiny infant to connect the tissue.  He was in the NICU now, but his stats were poor and the child’s father nearly beside himself.  Torn between waiting for his partner to wake up, and spending every single second with his son.

At exactly 6:07pm Patsy checked on the infant one last time before heading to the showers.  Was about to step in, start the process of washing the blood and agony of the day away, when her heart plummeted.  

A call to the restaurant confirmed that they could accommodate pushing the booking back to 8:30, but no later.  Now she just needed to let Delia know.

 

* * *

 

It was 8:27pm when the cab pulled up at the restaurant.  She pressed a note into the cabbie’s hand, heedless of the change owed.  Bolted through the doors as fast as she could on tired legs and high heels.

Exhaled only when she spotted Delia already seated, sipping a glass of wine and looking so gorgeous that Patsy felt it in every cell of her body.  A visceral thrill that vibrated through her very bones.

“I’m so sorry Delia…”  She was apologising even before her bum hit the seat, hoping against hope that the Welsh woman would forgive her for screwing up their very first date.  “I was in and out of theatre all day today and I just lost track of the time and I’m…”

“Patsy!”  Sharp.  “Seriously, stop.  There’s nothing to apologise for.  You were saving lives and delivering babies.  It’s what we do.  I get it.”  A small hand reached across the table, clasped tight to Patsy’s fingers.  “Is he still hanging on?”

“Yes.  I called in from the cab.  No improvement, but he hasn’t deteriorated further either.  The mother woke up an hour or so ago.  They’ve moved her from ICU.”

“Well, that’s some good news then.”

“Yes.”  It didn’t feel much like good news though.  She imagined the child’s father, having to break the news not only about the baby, but about the hysterectomy as well.  Choked back a gasp before forcibly wrenching a lid on her emotions.

Looked up into clear blue, shining with compassion.

“You don’t need to hide that from me, you know?”

“I know”  Almost sub-vocal.  “But I’ve already ruined our date, I don’t want to make it any worse by dissolving into a teary mess.”

“Nothing’s ruined Pats.  I’m getting to spend time with you.  That’s all I could ever ask for.”

Oh.

 

* * *

 

The dinner passed enjoyably after that.  They steered clear of talk about work, Delia excelling herself in keeping the conversation light and entertaining.  They shared bits of each other’s meals, drank too much wine, and argued good naturedly about dessert.

By 10pm Patsy was wilting.  Although the burst of self-loathing kept her going for a few more minutes until fatigue asserted itself.

“You look like you’re about to pass out in your cheesecake Pats.  And that would be a terrible waste.”

A yawn escaped before she could clamp it down.  Cheeks reddened in humiliation.

“I’m so sorry Deels.  I really have made a great mess of things.”

The smaller woman caught the waiter’s eyes, gestured for the bill.  “Don’t be daft Pats.  I completely understand.  Besides, I’ve got the morning shift tomorrow so an early night suits me fine.”

“How did you get to be so perfect?”

Delia’s only answer a derisive snort.

Patsy at least had the wherewithal to intercept the bill, arranged payment while Delia slipped on her coat.  They stood outside the restaurant, the cold air serving to fortify Patsy and coerce her brain into some semblance of attentiveness.

“Thank you for dinner Pats.  I had a lovely time.”

“After I made an absolute bollocks of everything.”

“Patsy…”

“No, it’s true Delia.  You’re being extraordinarily gracious about it, but I’ve made a right hash of things, you can’t deny it.”

“I can and I will.”  Delia stepped forward, grasped the lapels of Patsy’s coat.  Tugged forcefully.  “We both of us have jobs that are going to create havoc with our schedules from time to time.  It’s kind of the nature of babies.  They follow their own rules.  No matter how carefully we think we plan around them.”

Another tug brought their lips together, painfully brief, before Delia released her.

“Now go home and get some sleep.”

Was about to bid her goodnight when a pang of longing caught her unawares.  The last thing she wanted was to be alone.  And that final glass of wine caught up with her.

“Deels…  come home with me.”

“What?”

“Please.  Will you please come back to mine?”  Stilted.  “I don’t want to go to sleep by myself.”

“Oh sweetheart…”  A small hand caught hers, fingers twining together.  “Whatever you need.”

Barely cognisant of the walk home, Patsy surrendered to her fatigue and allowed Delia to guide her.  She managed to punch in the security code to access the building, found the key and opened the door to the flat without really focusing her eyes.  Delia helped herself to a set of pyjamas and disappeared into the bathroom, leaving Patsy to change and fall into bed.  Already mostly asleep as she heard the lights being clicked off, felt the dip as a small form clambered into the bed.

She snuggled into Delia, sighed mightily as strong arms circled her.  Held her.

“Sleep now Pats.”

And she did.


	19. Up trees and down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patsy helps Delia farewell her uncle.

The lingering scent of Delia in her bed, the dim recollection of being kissed goodbye in the early hours of the morning, made the process of waking up that much more bearable for Patsy. Stretched languorously before grabbing the second pillow and squeezing it tight. With her eyes closed and the smell of Delia’s perfume on the linen, she could almost imagine the Welsh woman was there with her. As she stumbled, bleary eyed, to the bathroom her heart swelled at the sight that greeted her in the kitchen. Tea things laid out ready, along with a bowl of cereal just waiting for milk. Propped against the bowl was a note scribbled on an abandoned Tesco receipt.

**Eat. You’ll feel better. D xxx**

And she did. But it was less about the breakfast and more about the warm flush of joy that came from Delia’s gesture.

That warmth carried her through her morning ablutions, followed her to the hospital and made it all the better when she got a status update on her tiny patient. He was by no means out of the woods, but he didn’t seem to have suffered any complications from the surgery and his stats were improving slowly but steadily. All in all the best result they could have hoped for.

Patsy made time to have a meal break, fetched her phone from her locker while she ate.

> _Thank you so much for last night._

She hated emojis normally, but felt compelled to add a heart one to her message. Suspected it would be only the first of many.

> _You’re more than welcome Pats. Feeling better today?_
> 
> _I am, thanks to you._
> 
> _No thanks to me. All I did was sleep._
> 
> _You took care of me when I needed it._
> 
> _I’m just really glad you asked. How’s the little one going?_
> 
> _A small improvement actually. Anything could happen, of course, but I’m cautiously optimistic._
> 
> _That’s wonderful!_
> 
> _It is. But I must get back._
> 
> _Of course. Talk later?_
> 
> _Can’t wait._

The rest of her day was blissfully straightforward - no complications, no emergencies. For once Patsy walked out of the hospital right on time, with only two things on her mind. Supper, and Delia. Not necessarily in that order.

Conscious that the Welsh woman was probably already asleep, Patsy limited herself to a text. Quashed the slight pang of disappointment when there was no response.

Her phone chirruped as she was eating her supper later. Picked it up absentmindedly and swiped it open as she stabbed an errant piece of chicken. Which froze halfway to her mouth as she simply stared.

Delia gazed back at her from the screen, hair tousled and blue eyes sleepy. Patsy could make out the imprint of a pillow crease on the smaller woman’s cheek. The selfie was accompanied by a message.

> _Sorry, I was sleeping. How was the rest of your day?_
> 
> _Well, it just got a hell of a lot better._

The laughing emoji came back almost instantly.

> _But honestly, it was fine. Drama free, which made a very nice change._
> 
> _I’m sure it did._
> 
> _What about you?_
> 
> _Same. Nothing exciting to report._

Patsy found her fingers scrolling back up to the image. Stared at it for a protracted moment. Longing. It would be so easy to just ask Delia to come over. Or to go to her place. Started typing out a message, until she took another good look at the photo and saw just how wrecked Delia looked. Remembered how much that was probably caused by her.

> _I should let you get back to sleep._
> 
> _Probably. But I wanted to talk to you._
> 
> _And now you have. I’m fine, so you can go ahead and catch up on the sleep you missed._
> 
> _That’s not what I meant Pats. I wanted to ask if you’d come out with me on the weekend. We’ve both got a free day Saturday._
> 
> _Another date?_

If her heart raced a little at the prospect, well, it wasn’t as if anyone else could hear it.

> _Sort of. There’s something I think I need to do, and I’d like you there with me._
> 
> _Whatever you want Deels. Just tell me where and when and I’ll be there._

 

* * *

 

Patsy answered the door on Saturday morning feeling more than slightly ridiculous. Delia had asked her to be prepared for some physical activity and to dress as such, so she’d dug out her one pair of trainers and track pants, and slung on a hoodie.

Delia smiled her approval as Patsy tugged open the door. Then smirked as she looked more closely at Patsy’s expression.

“You look like a vegan in a butcher’s shop.”

“Don’t mock me.”

“You’re making it too easy.” Settled her rucksack more comfortably on her shoulder before reaching for Patsy’s hand. “Come on then.”

Patsy allowed herself to be ushered about town, unprotesting. Content to let Delia lead the way. Thrilled, in fact, just to be in the smaller woman’s presence. They’d spoken or texted every day, but it wasn’t the same. Didn’t cause the same ripples of delight in her abdomen, rush of warmth through her chest.

Knew Delia felt it too because the Welsh woman was equally quiet. Allowed the connection of their fingers alone to communicate everything Patsy needed to know.

They stopped, finally, at an unfamiliar park. Small, mostly empty, and full of trees. The sun, still winter weak, peeked from between the sparse cloud cover. Illuminated the first signs of spring on boughs that appeared bare and barren, but gave off the faintest tinge of fuzzy green in the light.

Delia prowled the park, eyeballing the trees and shaking her head as each one seemed to come up short. Clueless, Patsy trailed behind, until the Welsh woman finally seemed satisfied. Dropped her rucksack at the base of the tree and handed Patsy her phone.

“I suppose I’d better tell you what we’re doing here.”

“Given that I’ve got less than no idea, that might be nice.” Didn’t realise how snippy that sounded until sharp blue eyes pinned her in place. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that, I just meant…”

A finger pressed against her lips served to silence her. Blue peered into blue, apologetic.

“Do you want to hear this or not?”

Patsy nodded underneath Delia’s finger. Acutely aware of Delia’s calloused skin against her lips.

“Well hush then.” A deep breath. “Ever since I talked to my mam I’ve been really conscious of… well, it’s really affected my mood and my mental health. And that’s all tied up with my guilt around not going back for Uncle Daffyd’s funeral.” A pause. “I’ve decided I need to do something to let go of that. Because I can feel it impacting on me and I don’t want it to get in the way of what’s happening between us.”

The finger against Patsy’s lips moved finally. Delia cupped Patsy’s jaw, stroked her thumb against the ridge of a cheekbone before pulling away.

“So I thought to myself, how can I commemorate Daffyd’s passing in a way that’s going to allow me to move on? And I thought about all of my favourite memories of him, and that they always involved me climbing something I shouldn’t. So that’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to climb this tree, just like he taught me all those years ago. And you’re going to take a photo so I can remember that there are many ways to celebrate a relationship.”

“That sounds very fitting.”

“I thought so.”

“Please be careful.” She really couldn’t help herself. Expected aggravation, anticipated a dark look.

Received instead a knowing smile, a brief kiss. “I promise.”

Then Delia turned and scampered up the tree.

 

* * *

 

Patsy had duly taken Delia’s photo as she perched precariously at the top of the tree. Then had a conniption as the Welsh woman sort of stepped off, swung through the branches and landed neatly at Patsy’s side. It was over in the space of a couple of seconds, but it took her quite some time to dislodge her heart from her throat and breathe.

Delia has taken one look at Patsy’s chalky features and made her sit down. Apologised profusely for scaring her.

They’d found a cafe nearby, had a restorative cup of tea. Patsy’s heart rate had almost returned to regular rhythms when Delia gazed at her, contemplative.

“Pats…”

“Hmmn?”

“I really want you to come climbing with me. So I can show you how safe I am.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea Delia.”

“Please. I’m not talking about free climbing or anything dangerous. I’d like to take you to a climbing centre, you’ll be strapped into a harness and so will I.”

“No, I don’t…”

“Come on, please.” The smaller woman knew the power of her bright blue eyes, used them now to plead. “It’ll be a really nice way to mark the day for me. Teaching someone else to climb - someone that I love. The same way my uncle did for me.”

“But Deels…”

“You’ll be one hundred percent safe, I swear to you.” A pause. “And if you really don’t like it we can find something else to do later.”


	20. A connection so profound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Delia takes Patsy climbing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note the rating change.
> 
> I know the updates are coming in quick rn. Honestly, I'm trying to get this story completed before the new school year starts back at the end of the month and I have no time again. See how it goes.
> 
> This chapter hasn't been proof read yet (by anyone but me), just a heads up.

So it was that Patsy found herself strapped into one of the most uncomfortable contraptions she’d ever had the misfortune to experience, clipped to a rope and facing a plethora of brightly coloured, oddly shaped lumps of fibreglass that were bolted to a wall. And somehow she was expected to get to the top of it.

It almost beggared belief.

Beside her Delia tugged on the rope, feeding it through a device attached to her own harness. Patsy heard the pulley above them spin, felt the slight jerk against her middle.

“Okay, we’re all set. As you climb I’ll tighten this rope, and then if you happen to slip I’ll support you to the ground.”

“That simple hey?” Faint.

“It really is.”

Patsy blanched as she stared around the centre, watching people in various stages of contortion, dangling from overhangs and looking like so many giant insects on the wall.

“Now, this is the beginner wall. All the climbs on this one are pretty straight forward. You see how the wall is just vertical. You pick one colour, and follow the path up.”

“Do I really have to?”

“No. It’s not like I’m going to force you Pats.” A pause. “I’d just really… I’d like to share this with you.”

She could hardly say no to that.

Took a deep breath and a good look at the wall. Picked the blue holds, because they reminded her of Delia’s eyes. And climbed.

She felt the rope adjust as she rose higher above the ground. Surprised that it was actually easier than it seemed. Her height meant that the next set of hand holds were always within reach, and if you thought about it as climbing a strange sort of ladder it wasn’t too hard at all. Was almost to the top when she made the mistake of looking down.

Oh dear god.

Her body flattened itself against the wall, hands contracting into claws with a frantic grip on the nearest holds.

“Patsy. Pats, you need to relax. You’re doing so well. Nothing’s changed. You’re still safe.”

“Deels, how the fuck am I meant to climb down again?”

“You’re not. That’s what the rope is for. Half the fun is getting to abseil back down.”

“What?”

“Just watch the others.”

Face pressed against the coarse fibreglass, Patsy whimpered to herself. Forced her gaze to the side, where she was met with the sight of a young woman who simply dropped from the top of the wall. Hung from the rope with her backside to the ground and just kind of bounced her way down until her feet hit the mat.

Oh.

“When you’re ready Pats, just let go. I’ve got you.”

She relaxed minutely. Studied the distance to the floor, assessed the height and the relative padding of the mats and calculated that if she fell it might only be a broken bone or two. It wouldn’t be fatal at least.

A quick glance down at Delia, at the look of utter belief and confidence in her.

Let go with her hands.

The rope stretched and jerked just a little. But it held. And Patsy found herself sort of sitting in mid air with her feet against the wall.

“You’re doing great Pats. Now just push off from the wall a little and I’ll lower you down.”

It wasn’t the smoothest of rides, but she managed to take tiny jumps away from the wall, and Delia got her to the ground safely. Where she promptly almost keeled over as her knees threatened to buckle under her. Almost did collapse when Delia launched herself at Patsy, squeezed until she could barely breathe.

“I knew you could do it.”

Patsy had a go at the yellow holds, and the purple. She actually fell off the red ones, but she was convinced by then that Delia could keep her safe, even managed to crack a joke about her clumsiness as she swung in mid air.

They traded off and moved to a different section of the wall, and Delia taught Patsy how to support her on the rope as she climbed. Not that it was necessary. The Welsh woman just sort of inhabited the wall, swarming smoothly from hold to hold even though some of them appeared way too far apart and her feet were dangling loose.

Once Patsy got over her fear it was exhilarating to watch.

They moved to a more difficult section of the centre again, and Delia stripped off her hoodie to reveal a tank top underneath. Adjusted her harness and headed up the overhanging wall and Patsy was so distracted by the interplay of muscles in Delia’s shoulders and arms that she almost let the rope go slack.

Blushed hard when the smaller woman caught her ogling, and winked. Sure that her face must be matching her hair right then.

Reflected that it really was quite captivating, watching Delia. Her grace and absolute confidence were enticing. And as for her muscles well - she wasn’t sure when she’d developed a taste for well built women, it had never been something she’d found attractive before. But if Delia didn’t stop and put her hoodie back on very soon, Patsy may not be responsible for her actions.

The next time Delia descended her stomach let out a reverberating gurgle. Made Patsy laugh so hard she almost dropped the rope and Delia’s landing on the mat was rougher than usual. Scowled up at Patsy, but there was a twinkle in blue eyes and she immediately divested herself of the harness, helping Patsy to step out of her own.

“Let’s get lunch. I’m starving.”

“Yes.” Dry. “I think the whole place is aware of that.”

 

* * *

 

The weather had turned while they were inside the climbing centre. A chilly drizzle made visibility poor and being outdoors miserable, so it was quickly decided to get pizza and bring it back to Patsy’s.

Too hungry to dry off, they ate the pizza while still damp, leaving wet marks on the chairs and steaming up the kitchen windows as the heating started to evaporate the moisture from their hair and clothes.

Patsy was done eating long before the Welsh woman. Left her on her sixth piece of pizza to have a quick shower and change. Couldn’t suppress a laugh when she emerged from the bathroom ten minutes later to see Delia sprawled on the chair looking half asleep, rubbing her belly absently.

“How’s the pizza baby?”

“Oh hush you. I always crave pizza after I climb, but then I forget how sleepy it makes me.”

“Have a shower. Then you can have a granny nap if you need to.”

Blue eyes narrowed playfully as the Welsh woman disappeared into the bathroom.

Patsy slouched on the sofa while she waited, gazing out the windows at the rain and thinking that it was a lovely afternoon to stay indoors and watch films and snuggle. Allowed herself to daydream for a little while, until the juddering of the hot water pipes caught her attention.

The shower was on. That meant Delia was currently naked. Naked. In her flat. With no one else around and no work for either of them until tomorrow.

Her mind supplied her with a slide show of Delia’s arms and shoulders. Interspersed with some images of Delia in that cocktail dress, and Delia in the outfit she’d worn on their date. And a couple of visuals of Delia wearing not much at all that her dreams had helpfully provided.

So preoccupied that Patsy didn’t notice that the shower had switched off. The bathroom door opened, startling her from her reverie. And Delia walked out humming to herself. Barefoot and freshly scrubbed, wearing a tank top and track pants and a smile.

Patsy’s head got hot, blood roared in her ears. A visceral tightening low low down in her belly. Swallowed convulsively as she just stared.

“Are you alright Pats?”

Blue eyes gazed at her, perplexed. Patsy could not look away. Watched as Delia’s brows drew down in puzzlement, and then suddenly rose. Saw the exact moment that understanding flickered across the smaller woman’s expression, the instant that cornflower blue darkened and smoldered.

Delia stalked across the room without breaking eye contact, straddled Patsy’s lap. Grabbed a fistful of her shirt and brought their lips together.

It wasn’t playful. It wasn’t tentative. It was pure need, a culmination of years of love and longing and Patsy could barely breath. Could hardly focus on anything as her hands found Delia’s skin and her mouth tasted the skin of Delia’s neck.

The tightening in her pelvis intensified almost to the point of pain. Felt like every cell was pulsing. Whole body tensing with urgency. Her nails dug into the soft skin on Delia’s waist. Peripherally she heard Delia’s sharp intake of breath but it didn’t really register. Because the smaller woman grasped the bottom of her tank, pulled it up and over her head.

Patsy almost lost her mind. There was just enough blood pumping to her rational brain to make one final decision.

“Deels.” Voice so deep it barely sounded like her own. “Deels… bed.”

“Yes.”

It should have been awkward. There ought to have been a tangle of limbs and difficulty in getting up. But instead they moved as one, and when Delia reached for Patsy’s hand to tug her towards the bedroom there was a moment of connection so profound it resonated in Patsy’s mind like a bell.

This was precisely where she was meant to be.

They’d only just reached the bedroom when Delia reached for the hem of Patsy’s shirt. Undressed in silence, the whisper of clothes drawing over flesh barely audible over elevated breathing. And as the last item of clothing hit the floor, the spell broke.

“Oh god Pats.”

“Deels… Please…”

Fell together in a sensory overload of bodies and skin and fervour and Patsy was scarcely congnisant of where she ended and Delia began. Her hands itched to map every last inch of the Welsh woman’s body, but her plan got derailed when Delia’s mouth found the hollow at the base of her throat, when a firm thigh slipped in between Patsy’s legs.

She had no control over the ragged gasp that drew from deep in her chest.

“Yes. Oh, yes.”

She got a glimpse of determined blue as Delia rolled them over, then she saw nothing but stars and swirls of blue and gold as her eyes slammed shut and Delia overwhelmed her. The first touch of Delia’s lips on her breast had her panting, and by the time a small hand found its way down her belly, between her legs, Patsy could barely breath. Only seconds later when knowledgable fingers stroked once, again, and sent her careening, calling Delia’s name like an invocation.

It was embarrassingly fast but Patsy had no time for shame. Willed strength into her arms as she forced her eyes open. Saw Delia gazing down at her in something like awe.

“My turn.”

And the Welsh woman’s surprise allowed just enough freedom to flip her over.

Now… Now she would take the time to learn every part of Delia’s body. And she meant to. She really did. Kissed her deeply and thoroughly and without compromise as she allowed her hands to trace the planes and curves of Delia’s compact frame.

But Delia’s body was undulating, bearing a tension so exquisite that Patsy could almost sense her muscles vibrating with it, could feel the whimpers that were building in volume and fervour. Until Delia tore her mouth away from Patsy’s.

“Jesus, Patsy, please… I need…”

There was time enough for exploration later.

Patsy allowed herself the luxury of tasting Delia’s skin, at least. Trailed her tongue down a corded neck, across the planes of Delia’s chest. Until the skin beneath her mouth changed and pebbled and her lips closed around a hardened nipple.

Supporting herself on one elbow, Patsy used the other hand to trace the planes of Delia’s belly, over the curve of a hip. Down the length of a strong thigh. The skin of Delia’s inner thigh was impossibly soft and warm. And then Patsy fingers discovered the slick heat between her legs.

Sighing in pleasure, Patsy used her tongue to trace patterns around Delia’s nipple as her fingers explored Delia’s centre. Her head flushed hot in anticipation as Delia’s breathing became shallow. Erratic. As her hips surged and tiny, unconscious rhythmic grunts fell from her open lips.

Delia’s back bowed suddenly, breathing contracted into rapid pants.

Patsy went with her, increased the pressure and speed of her fingers. Bit down gently.

Delia exploded. Her beautiful Delia, who called out wordlessly, body shuddering as she gasped for air.

Patsy gentled her movements, but didn’t remove her hand. Could feel the waves of pleasure continue to ripple throughout the small body beneath her. They finally slowed. Abated.

Luminous blue eyes snapped open. Delia looked past her defenses, past her insecurities. Into the very truth of her. And Patsy fell impossibly further.


	21. The letting go of guilt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patsy meets with Lucy.

The rumbling of Delia’s stomach curtailed their activities later that evening. Much later. Long after Patsy was satisfied that she had explored every plane and facet of Delia’s lithe body. Long after they’d lost count. Long after Patsy had investigated the Welsh woman’s two tattoos.

That had been an unexpectedly appealing shock. The first one was obvious, a stylised Welsh dragon in red and white and green in the centre of Delia’s back. It was captivating, moving subtly as Delia’s muscles bunched and flexed. Constantly on alert. On guard.

The second Patsy only discovered as they lay tangled together, catching their breath. Patsy had collapsed behind Delia, one arm draped over the smaller woman’s hip. Lips pressed to the back of her neck. As Delia shifted, stretched out fatigued muscles, Patsy’s eye caught a shape behind her ear. Carefully collected dark hair into a makeshift ponytail and pushed it to the side. There, behind Delia’s ear, done in shades of blue, was a delicate semi colon.

It caused Patsy’s heart to constrict. Compelled her to wrap her arms around Delia and just squeeze and never want to let go. Knowing that her precious girl had been in such a low place.

Until Delia had grumbled in frustration and broken the embrace. Pinned Patsy’s arms above her head and kissed her until she remembered that Delia was here in her life (and in her bed) and it was only the future that mattered.

It was gone seven before they could no longer ignore the protestations of Delia’s digestive system. The gurgles had gotten progressively louder and more insistent, until finally they both dissolved into laughter after one enormous growl that Patsy had felt more than heard as she rested her head on well defined abdominal muscles.

They tugged their clothes back on, rummaging in the kitchen for something quick to prepare for supper. Almost burned the chicken as they got caught up in each other. Delia had Patsy backed against the kitchen cabinets, one hand up her shirt and the other down her pants, Patsy almost incoherent with pleasure. The smaller woman pulled away abruptly with a soft curse, much to Patsy’s consternation. Flipped the chicken out from under the grill and swore again when the blackened edges were revealed.

“I thought I could smell something burning. Sorry.”

“I wasn’t aware of anything except you.”

Irritated blue softened, an involuntary smile curved Delia’s lips.

Patsy studied the chicken critically, tried to ignore the lingering edge of her ardour. “I think it’s salvageable. That’ll serve us right for getting… distracted in the middle of cooking.”

Their meal, when they sat down to it, was a little lacklustre. Delia simply shrugged. “It’s fuel. I’m too hungry to care right now.”

“I care.” Mournful. “Next time I’m going to cook you a really nice meal. I promise.”

“I’m looking forward to it.” A pause. “Breakfast is my favourite meal of the day, by the way.”

Patsy feigned scandalised outrage, but the cheeky twinkle in Delia’s eyes nearly undid her.

“It’ll have to be another time though. I’m on earlys again tomorrow.” Regretful. “I should probably head home soon.”

“Oh. Of course.”

“Pats…”

“I understand, Deels, I really do. I just… I wish you didn’t need to go.”

“Me too.”

 

* * *

 

Patsy’s phone beeped at her some time not long after Delia left. She’d been moping just a little, wallowing in the silent emptiness of the flat. Indulging in the anticlimactic hollow that inevitably followed a momentous event.

And oh had it been momentous.

Heart soaring, she checked her messages. Only to fumble in confusion when the text was from Lucy.

> _Hello Patsy. I was wondering if we could meet up tomorrow, if you have any free time. I have a few more things of yours to pass on. And I’d like to talk to you._

In the space of fifty words or less her good mood turned evanescent, dissipating into a knot of worry. And guilt, acrid on the back of her tongue.

> _I’m on the afternoon shift tomorrow. I can see you before midday._

Immediately texted Trixie. Who called thirty seconds later.

“Are you alright Patsy?”

“Not really.”

“You didn’t need to agree to see her, you know? It would have been perfectly okay for you to say it was too soon.”

“I know. But I’ve been talking to Louise about letting go of some of this guilt, and the best way to do that is to actually see Lucy and that she’s okay. Well, as okay as the circumstances allow.”

Trixie made a noncommittal noise.

“And I would have been prepared, I would have jumped at the opportunity normally. It just caught me off guard.” A pause. “Such terrible timing.”

“Why?” Sharp. “What happened?”

Thought about all the ways that she could begin to explain how things had changed with Delia, and got stuck.

“Delia.” Hoped her tone conveyed everything Trixie needed to know.

“Oh?” A pause. “Oh…” Knowing. “So you two…?”

“Mmm hmm.”

“And it was..?”

“Oh yes.”

“Patience Mount you dark horse!” Trixie’s delighted chuckle felt barely constrained by the phone speaker. Patsy suddenly wished her best friend was there so she could see the wicked smile accompanying that laugh.

“I’m just… I was feeling so good about things. And now I just feel sick.”

“Listen to me. You’ll be fine sweetie.” Confident. “Go and listen to what Lucy has to say. Get some closure. And then you’re free to move on with Delia.” A pause. “However you choose to do so.”

“Trix…”

“No, my point is you’ll be able to let go and really focus on enjoying your future with Delia, without this cloud of guilt hanging over you.”

“I’m so worried.”

“I know. You wouldn’t be Patsy Mount without a mountain of worries weighing you down. But think about it this way. If you don’t go, you’ll always be wondering what it was that Lucy had to say. You won’t get any sort of closure whatsoever, and you’ll regret it. But if you do go, it’ll be a tiny investment of your time. If it goes badly you never need see her again. But potentially you’ll get to talk and sort out your differences. You’ll be able to at least get rid of that guilt. Because I know it’s there and I know it’s getting in the way of your time with Delia.”

“You’re right.”

“Of course I am sweetie.”

“Thanks Trixie.”

“Any time. Now go to bed and sleep. You’ll handle it better if you’re well rested.”

Sometimes her best friend knew her too well.

 

* * *

 

Patsy walked into the cafe at precisely 11am the next morning. Glanced around and spotted Lucy at a corner table, clutching a cup of tea and sporting a nervous expression that rivalled Patsy’s own. Saw the involuntary smile that crossed Lucy’s face upon observing Patsy - that fell and was immediately masked.

It made Patsy’s heart ache.

A deep breath, and Patsy walked to the table. Businesslike.

“Hello Lucy.”

“Patsy.”

“You’re looking well.” And Lucy was. She’d retained some of the tan acquired on her trip to the Caribbean, had lost the haunted, shell shocked appearance of their last interaction.

“Thank you. So are you.”

She certainly didn’t feel it. Her stomach roiled, anxiety about how this was going to turn out reaching a fevered crescendo in her abdomen. Took a deep breath and pulled out the chair opposite Lucy. Folded her hands neatly in front of her to prevent them from shaking.

“So what did you want to talk about?”

“Straight to the point, nothing’s changed.”

“Neither of us want to dwell on small talk Lucy.”

“I know. But we could at least have a cup of tea together.” Before Patsy could protest Lucy was up and out of her seat, had made her way to the counter.

Patsy sat and breathed deeply. Long cleansing breaths to quell the unease in her belly. To firm her resolve.

Thought about Lucy, and how she usually hated to prevaricate. Wondered what the other woman had to say that she felt it necessary to delay.

“Tea’s on its way.”

“Thank you.”

“Look, I realise this is really awkward. Thank you, for agreeing to meet me.”

“Lucy…”

“Please Patsy, just let me speak. This is hard enough already.”

Patsy kept silent. Gestured for the other woman to continue.

“I really… I really just need to apologise. I behaved abominably last time we saw each other. Like an absolute child. That wasn’t okay and I’m sorry.”

“This really isn’t necessary Lucy.”

“It is.”

They paused for a moment as the server delivered the tea. Murmured thanks.

“Apologies are really not required. It was a horrible situation and you were entitled to…” A pause. “To not be rational about it.”

“That’s a polite way of describing how I behaved.”

“You were hurt. I hurt you. And you were lashing out. It was completely understandable.”

“It might have been understandable but it was still appalling. I treated your belongings with contempt and I think I even broke some things.”

“They weren’t important.”

“That hardly matters. I’m sorry, and I hope you’ll forgive me.”

“There’s nothing to forgive.”

“Patsy, please.”

And Patsy finally cottoned on that this was as much about Lucy’s healing as it was about closure.

“I forgive you Lucy.”

“Thank you.”

They sipped their tea in silence. Allowing this new accord to settle.

“Lucy…”

“I forgive you too, you know?”

“You do?”

“It took me a while to come to terms with it. To really hear what you said. But you were right. You need to follow your heart, and I need to find someone who is free to give me theirs.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“No, like you said. No more apologies needed.” A pause. “I just wish you’d been more self aware. That you’d come to this realisation sooner.”

“So do I! I never wanted to hurt you.”

“I know.”

Another moment of silence. But this one felt lighter. More tranquil.

“So I have a couple more of your books. And a photo that I found in the back of the bookshelf.” Lucy passed over a small bundle, wrapped in a Tesco bag.

Patsy opened it, picked up the picture. Her heart clenched as she stared at it. It was the two of them, sitting on a bench at Brighton. Patsy had an arm thrown over Lucy’s shoulder, and Lucy had threaded her arms around Patsy’s waist. They were both grinning into the camera. At Trixie, Patsy remembered.

“Luce…”

“It’s a lovely photo. I had a copy made. So that we could both have something to remember the good times.”

“It is a lovely picture.” Stared at it a moment longer before smiling at the woman opposite. Tentative.

“I wish you every happiness Patsy, I really do.”

“Same to you. I hope you find someone who can… I just want you to be happy.”

“Thank you.”

Lucy stood up. Reached across the table to clasp Patsy’s hand. Fleeting.

“Goodbye Patsy.”

“Goodbye Lucy.”


	22. The solution to loneliness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patsy gets a little encouragement to get a cat.

It was almost a whole week before their schedules meshed again. Busy days of work and babies and surgery. Long, protracted evenings of unanticipated loneliness. Nights of restless isolation.

Patsy found she preferred the evening shifts, because it was the dark hours that weighed down on her. When she was at work the hours flew by, in a rush of patients and research and the omnipresent odour of antiseptic. Evenings at home ended in her baking something she’d never eat, watching something mindless on the television. Or reading. She had renewed her membership at the local library because she had more hours to herself than she knew what to do with.

Solitude had never been a burden before. Patsy had always been self sufficient. Had usually craved more time to herself than she was able to manage. But now her time alone was flavoured with yearning, with the tantalising prospect of Delia.

By the end of the week she was so on edge that Trixie dragged her out for a drink after work. Wouldn’t let her go home alone. But the bar seemed aggressively loud and inhospitable, and when she found herself snapping in annoyance at her best friend Patsy excused herself. Hugged Trixie in silent apology, ignoring her concerned gaze, her entreaties to stay just a little longer. Wrapped her coat around herself and walked home the long way. Just to pass the time.

In the hallway of her building, Patsy sighed. Braced herself for the hollow echo of her apartment. As she inserted the key into the lock, the door behind her opened.

“Good evening Patsy.”

A deep breath. A forced smile. Turned around to greet her neighbour.

“Hello Phyllis.”

Sharp brown eyes assessed her. Stern lines around the older woman’s mouth softened.

“Oh dear. You look very down in the dumps, lass. I think you’d best come in and have a cup of tea.”

The thought of having to make small talk made Patsy quail. She wanted nothing more than a hot chocolate and bed. And Delia, of course, but that was out of the question.

“Thank you for the offer, Phyllis, that’s very kind of you. But I’m afraid I’m not fit company at the moment.”

“Nonsense. You need cheering up and I’ve got just the thing for it. Come in, lass, come in. My Perrito will do the trick.”

“I don’t…”

“I insist.”

“Well, maybe just for a little while.”

Phyllis ushered her through the door and Patsy stopped. Entranced. A dachshund sat on the sofa, ears perked, tail wagging so vigorously that its small body jiggled.

“He’ll wait for you to acknowledge him. Go ahead and sit down. Perrito is very friendly.”

Patsy crossed the room, sat next to the dog. Held out her hand, fingers curved downwards.

“Hello there.”

The dachshund sniffed her fingers decorously. Gave her hand a tentative lick. And apparently approved of what he found, because Patsy found herself with a lapful of quivering, fur-covered happiness.

“Let me take your coat, lass, before you get it ruined with fur. Perrito, down boy.”

Soulful brown eyes stared up at Phyllis. Reproachful.

“Yes lad, I know you’ve got a new friend. Just hop down for a moment so she can take off her coat.”

He sniffed. Daintily jumped off Patsy’s lap to the sofa cushion, long snout held high. Watched as Patsy stripped off her coat and handed it to Phyllis, and then promptly hoisted himself back onto Patsy’s thighs.

Patsy glanced around the flat as Phyllis busied herself with brushing off some fur from the coat, hung it on the coat stand in the corner. The furnishings were spartan, just the bare basics for comfortable living. But the walls were hung with hundreds of photos. They vied for space on every conceivable surface, and Patsy longed to explore them.

Phyllis caught her wistful look. “Don’t let him hold you hostage Patsy. Feel free to get up and have a look around.”

“Oh, I don’t mean to intrude.”

“You’re not intruding, I invited you in to take your mind off whatever it is that’s bothering you. If my photos help to distract you then all the better.”

Patsy looked down at Perrito. He gazed back up at her, intelligence shining in his big brown eyes. “I just want to have a look. I’ll be back to pat you soon, i promise.”

He yipped once. Leaped down from Patsy’s lap and onto the floor, waiting patiently for her to stand. Proceeded to accompany Patsy as she took a tour of the flat, and a tour of the world.

“Did you take all these yourself?”

“I did, lass. I’ve been very fortunate in my life, done a lot of travel. Been to every continent in fact.”

“I can see that.”

The photos were incredible, images of recognisable landmarks interspersed with candid shots of locals and locales that were clearly off the usual tourist circuit.

“Now, I’ll put the kettle on. How about that cup of tea?”

“I don’t suppose you’ve got hot chocolate at all? I’m having trouble sleeping and…”

“No chocolate I’m afraid. It doesn’t agree with my digestion. But can I interest you in a nice cup of horlicks?”

 

* * *

 

 

It was hours later before Patsy glanced at her watch. She’d sipped her horlicks, patting Perrito absentmindedly as Phyllis regaled her with tales of her myriad adventures, and some of the more ridiculous situations she had found herself in over the years of her travels.

She looked down to see Perrito drooped upside down across her lap, head hanging off her thigh. Tongue lolling out of his mouth.

Phyllis shook her head, indulgent. “Just look at that dog. He knows which side his bread is buttered, that's for sure.”

“He really is rather adorable.”

“And doesn't he know it.”

“I should probably get going.” Patsy was surprised to hear the genuine regret in her voice.

“Rightly so, lass. It's time for old curmudgeons like myself to get some rest.”

“Phyllis, I… I just want to thank you. I really do feel much better now.”

“Any time Patsy. Truly, any time. Perrito is always up for a good belly rub.”

The dachshund perked up upon hearing his name. Ears alert, but not quite with it enough to have full control of his muscles. Scrambled off Patsy’s lap in a flail of legs and tail and stared up at them with his tongue still protruding just a fraction.

“Oh for goodness sake. Put your tongue away you dopey thing.”

He sneezed, indignant. Trotted off into the kitchen.

“Well, goodnight Phyllis. Thanks ever so much.”

The older woman gazed at her for a long moment. Thoughtful.

“Listen lass, whatever it is that’s bothering you, just talk to her about it.”

“What..?”

“I may not be married, but I've had my share of affairs and relationships and I can recognise problems when I see them. She seems like a lovely kid, I'm sure you'll be able to sort it out.”

Patsy was on the cusp of anger. Was on the tip of her tongue to tell Phyllis to mind her own business. Instead, she heard herself sigh.

“It's not exactly that Delia and I are having problems. We both have very demanding jobs and not much time to spend together. And I'm not coping very well with not seeing her.”

“Is it quite new, your relationship?”

“Yes… No… It's complicated.”

Phyllis snorted. “It's always complicated. If it's just a matter of time enough together, ask her to move in.”

“It's not that simple. I can't very well just…”

“Why not? Listen lass, take it from someone who's been around the block a time or two. If you find someone you love, who loves you, then you should grab it with both hands. Every opportunity is precious.”

 

* * *

 

 

Phyllis’ other piece of advice had been to get a pet. Which seemed infinitely easier than asking Delia to move in. She'd even cleared the way already, having confirmed with the estate agent that pets were allowed on her lease.

Before she went to sleep Patsy messaged Delia.

> _I'm going to the animal shelter tomorrow to look at kittens. Want to join me?_
> 
> _OMG yes!!!!!!!!_

 

* * *

 

 

The tense, unsettled feeling in her guts dissipated instantly as she caught sight of Delia the next morning. Her shoulders relaxed, and it seemed as if her whole body breathed a sigh of relief.

When Delia hugged her in greeting Patsy’s breath hitched. And she held on longer than was necessarily appropriate for a public greeting.

“You alright Pats?”

“I am now.” A pause. “I've missed you.”

Delia smiled. Laced their fingers together.

The woman at the animal shelter assumed they were a couple. Sensed that Delia was the more outgoing of the two, and proceeded to address all her questions and recommendations to the Welsh woman. Delia didn’t correct her, and Patsy didn’t protest. Simply watched as Delia exclaimed over each dog they walked past on the way to the kitten pen.

Delia sat down on the floor in the cage, was instantly swarmed by a mewling carpet of tiny bodies. Patsy absorbed her delighted giggles like a sponge. Smiled and petted each teeny fluffball that Delia held up for her inspection. But her eye had been caught by the lines of cages further down the passageway, the older cats who for whatever reasons had to be rehomed. Who weren’t as tiny and adorable as the kittens, but who still needed someone to love them.

Left Delia with her miniature kitty army and wandered off.

The shelter worker, who had finally gathered the dynamic, followed along. Guided Patsy past the rows of empty cages. Explained, subdued, that they’d needed to euthanise a large number of the older cats recently because they just weren’t finding homes.

Winded, Patsy swallowed down the acid burn in her throat. Heart wrenching to think of those creatures who nobody wanted.

There were only a handful of cats in the pens. One cage housed a pair, two grey tabbies curled together. Brother and sister from the same litter, apparently. She could only see the backs of three other cats, sleepy and dejected in the late winter chill. Patsy grieved for their dispirited state, wondered if they could sense the proximity, the senselessness of the future. The last cage, however…

Two green eyes stared at her from a small, curious face. The top half of the cat’s head was black, a ginger patch over one eye. Nose highlighted by a white diamond. The rest of the cat’s body was a gorgeous patchwork tortoiseshell blend of ginger, white and black, with neat white socks. As Patsy stared the cat rose up off its perch. Jumped to the floor of the cage and sat by the wire, head cocked. Appraised the woman in front of it. Let out a confident meow before rubbing itself along the bars of the pen. Patsy could hear the cat purring.

“That’s the one.”

The cat was female, around three years old as best they could ascertain. There had been evidence of past pregnancies, but she’d been desexed at the shelter and deemed healthy to rehome. The shelter workers had been calling her Patches, but the woman assured Patsy that the cat would adjust to any name she was given.

“Oh, she’s beautiful.” Delia had finally relinquished the kittens, crouched in front of the cage and held her fingers to the bars. The tortoiseshell sniffed her fingers. Opened her mouth to expose pointed canines. And sneezed vigorously.

Patsy chortled at Delia’s startled expression.

They discussed names on the walk home, the cat tucked into a neat new carrier that Patsy purchased from the shelter. Along with food and bowls and a litter tray and all the accoutrements that cats need. Delia carried the cat and Patsy was laden with the rest, certain she got the raw end of that particular deal.

Dismissed several options. Salem. Miss Kitty Fantastico. Gave serious consideration to Socks. They were almost home before Patsy finally lit on the perfect name.

“Minerva!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is Minerva: http://bit.ly/2jYIICC


	23. Walking away is easy to do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Minerva comes home to Patsy's.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, this one was heavy going to write. Especially in light of S06E01.

Minerva had prowled around the apartment at least five times while Patsy and Delia found a home for the food and water bowls, the litter tray, the bed. She weaved through the table and chair legs, stalked across Patsy’s bed, sniffed each and every appliance on the benches. Scrabbled in and out of the bath tub. Investigated the cat bed. Had a brief sip of water before disappearing into the bedroom.

Patsy gave her a few minutes. Walked quietly to the doorway and stopped short. Minerva had found herself a cubby hole in Patsy’s bed head, squeezed between a pile of books and a water bottle. Was sitting with her paws curled in, eyes wide.

“Oh. It’s okay Minerva. I just wanted to check on you. You stay there until you feel comfortable.”

Green eyes blinked back. Owlish.

Patsy retreated to the kitchen. Smiled as she noticed Delia making tea.

“Are you really going to just call her Minerva? Will you shorten it to Mini or anything?”

“I don’t know. I think I’ll just wait and find out what happens naturally.”

Drawn inexorably to Delia, Patsy wrapped her arms around the smaller woman’s waist from behind as she organised the tea. Rested her chin on a convenient shoulder. Felt abdominal muscles contract as Delia laughed.

“What happens naturally, eh?”

Delia pushed away from the counter, easily dislodging Patsy’s loose embrace. Turned, and Patsy almost gasped at the sudden incandescence in blue blue eyes. Felt the instantaneous tightening in her belly, the rush of heat to her chest and face. Would have been embarrassed at her reaction - the speed, the intensity - if she hadn’t noticed Delia’s elevated breathing. The way she licked her lips. Unconscious. Teeth catching on her bottom lip.

That was too much to resist.

They came together in a clash of lips and tongues and teeth and Patsy would have rejoiced at the rightness of it all if she hadn’t been so focused on finding Delia’s skin.

Somewhere in the back of her mind there was a tickle of awareness. Something not quite right. But it was thoroughly overridden when Delia unbuttoned her jeans. Nudged the zipper down.

They made it as far as the sofa before Patsy’s shirt was off, jeans pushed down to her ankles. Delia was single-minded in her purpose, so determined to unravel Patsy that there was nothing else to be done. No resistance to be found. Conscious of nothing but Delia and pleasure.

As she pieced together her senses sometime later, Patsy hoped she hadn’t been so loud that Phyllis heard. Or that Minerva would be scarred for life.

When she finally coerced her eyes into focusing, Delia was smirking. Self-satisfied. But Patsy could feel the lines of tension in the body above her. See the lack of dimples in the smile. The glimmer of urgency in blue eyes.

Patsy’s heart rate, barely recovered from its exertion, skyrocketed. Sent a rush of blood to her head and a shot of adrenalin to her extremities.

Delia saw it happen. Patsy watched in fascination as her pupils dilated. Breathing hitched.

“Deels…”

“Please Pats…”

Then there was no time for anything as they struggled to get the smaller woman’s jeans off her hips, to make room. And as she found the heat between Delia’s thighs, Patsy had never felt so alive.

 

* * *

 

 

She could not help feeling somewhat tawdry as they tugged up their jeans afterwards. Readjusted and realigned and rearranged clothing. They hadn’t so much as taken their shoes off, and whilst it had seemed so urgent and necessary at the time, now it just felt a bit cheap. Especially when Delia glanced at the clock and cursed.

“I really need to get going. I’m going to be late for work at this rate.”

Patsy felt it like a punch to the gut. Bit back a pained gasp. That was it, the niggling unease before. Delia had the afternoon shift. Concentrated on her breathing for a long moment before she trusted her voice to remain even.

“Do you need some lunch before you go?”

“No, I’ll pick something up on the way. Thanks though” A pause, as the Welsh woman studied her. “Are you alright Pats?”

She couldn’t trust herself to give any sort of reassuringly benign response. Forced herself to smile and nod.

“I don’t believe you. Not for a minute.”

Patsy could only shrug.

“Pats, what is it? I don’t have much time try to and wheedle it out of you.”

“No you don’t. Just go Delia.”

“Patsy…”

“You don’t want to be late for work.” Couldn’t completely disguise the bitterness from her voice.

“Come on Patsy…”

“Seriously, just go. It shouldn’t be hard. Walking away seems to be quite easy for you.”

She hadn’t really meant to say it. But it was the truth. And a tiny part of her - a dark, vengeful part - rejoiced to see the pain flash in Delia’s eyes. To match the torment in her heart.

“What?”

“Just leave Delia.”

Stormy blue glared at her for a long moment. Vacillating between hurt and disbelief and fury. Before the Welsh woman threw her hands in the air.

“Fine.”

Picked up her satchel and left the apartment.

Patsy expected the door to slam. Expected it to practically come off its hinges. But instead it closed smoothly, and the click of the latch seemed far more ominous.

 

* * *

 

 

Too numb to even cry, Patsy retreated to the bedroom. Curled up on the bed and just stared at the wall, desperately trying not to think about what had just happened. Hoped fretfully that she hadn’t just ruined everything.

As she lay there Patsy heard a curious, subdued meow. Felt the bed dip infinitessimally as Minerva jumped from her hidey hole, crept cautiously toward Patsy’s back. Didn’t dare to breathe as a tentative paw touched her side.

The cat sprung up suddenly, turned once, and settled on Patsy’s hip. Her purr was muted, barely discernable. But it was there. And Patsy felt oddly comforted.

Fell asleep with Minerva’s scarce weight grounding her. Keeping her safe.

Patsy woke up disoriented, her phone beeping, the sound of Minerva scratching the rug in the living room. Thought there was something wrong with her eyes until she managed to focus enough to realise that it was dark. She’d slept the whole afternoon away.

Her lock screen showed a message notification from Delia. Too scared to open it, Patsy shuffled into the living room. Minerva peered up at her from the vicinity of the food bowl.

“Is it supper time?”

Patsy poured some of the ridiculously expensive kibble into Minerva’s bowl. Green eyes blinked at her in thanks. Then Minerva bent to her meal.

“I’ll have to get you one of those scratching posts. Tearing the rug to shreds is not an efficient use of resources. And I don’t want to go back to Ikea any time soon to replace it.”

Patsy put the kettle on to boil. Prepared tea. Sighed, before picking up her phone.

“Time to face the music I suppose, hey?”

Minerva didn’t deign to respond.

> _We clearly need to talk. I’d like to come straight over after my shift if you think you’ll be awake._

It had been sent around five.

> _I don’t want to leave it this way Patsy. Please let me know when we can talk about this._

That one had come in just past seven.

> _Please Pats. Talk to me._

It had been the last message that woke her around eight pm.

Fingers frozen over the keypad, Patsy agonised over what to reply. Finally typed something, and hit send before she could second guess.

> _Sorry. I was asleep, not ignoring you. I’ll wait up. See you when your shift is done._

The response arrived before she’d finished her tea.

> _I’ll be there in about an hour._

She spent the intervening time preparing supper. After all, she’d promised Delia a proper cooked meal. It wasn’t the breakfast they’d joked about, but she was determined to follow through on her promise. It also had the added bonus of keeping her hands and her mind busy, with less time to fret about what would happen when Delia arrived. The pasta sauce was bubbling nicely, water rolling in a steady boil, and the salad ready for dressing when she heard the knock.

Minerva, who had been sitting on the rug and watching Patsy’s every move with fierce intent, startled. Streaked into the bedroom.

“It’s alright Minerva. It’s just Delia.”

Took a long breath, drawing air deep into her lungs, before exhaling slowly. Trying to drain some of the tense rigidity from her neck and shoulders.

Opened the door.

Worried blue eyes found hers immediately, in a face that looked tired and drawn. But still beautiful. Still so beautiful.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

They stared at each other awkwardly, until Patsy heard the fizzle of water splashing on the hob.

“Please, come in. I’ve made supper.”

“You didn’t need to do that.”

“I know. But I have to eat too, and I did promise.”

She hurried to the kitchen, leaving Delia in the doorway. Heard the door close as she tipped pasta into the waiting water. Caught sight of Delia bending to take off her shoes in her peripheral vision.

Somehow, that made the ball of anxiety in her gut release fractionally.

Bustled about dressing the salad and laying out bowls while the Welsh woman moved tentatively into the kitchen.

“Pats…”

“If you could fetch the cider out of the fridge I’d be very grateful. Glasses are on the table if you want to pour.”

“Sure.” Delia sighed, but didn’t push.

Patsy set herself to autopilot as she finalised the meal preparations and served. Delia sat quietly at the table, watching. Waiting patiently.

Murmured her thanks when Patsy placed a steaming bowl of spaghetti down in front of her. Her stomach growled vehemently at the smell.

They both laughed. And Patsy felt the tangle of nervousness unravel just a little more.

“This smells amazing Pats. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

They ate in silence for several minutes. Patsy, grateful that Delia hadn’t pushed her to talk yet, started to feel awkward. Started to fidget.

Delia carefully laid down her fork. Wiped her mouth with a napkin before folding it precisely and laying it next to her bowl. Raised her head and locked eyes with Patsy.

“So…”

“So.”

“Can you tell me what happened earlier? Help me to understand?”

“There’s not much to understand unfortunately. I was taking my insecurities out on you, and it was unforgivable.”

“Come on Pats, there’s more to it than that, I know there is. What did you mean when you said that it’s easy for me to walk away? Is this about what happened when we were kids?”

“Yes.” Strangled. Her fork clattered to the table, dropped from uncooperative fingers. Patsy watched the sauce spatter on the table, fascinated by the pattern. “You left. You walked away and you did what your mother told you and you didn’t fight. Not at all.” A pause. “Not for me.”

“Oh Pats…”

“I’d had so much taken away from me already. I didn’t want to feel again, I didn’t. But then you happened and I couldn’t help but love you.” Agonised. “And then you left me too.”

She was aware of Delia standing, of moving around the table. Gasped when small hands gripped her shoulders, pulled until Patsy’s ear was pressed to Delia’s heart and Delia’s arms were holding her so tight she couldn’t move.

As if she’d ever want to be anywhere else.

“I couldn’t bear it if you left me again Delia. It hurts every single time I watch you walk away from me.”

“Oh sweetheart. I’m not going anywhere. I promise.” Delia’s accent had thickened in her distress, the lilting strange and soothing. “I’m so sorry Pats. So very sorry. I was young and a bit selfish. I was in such a bad place I couldn’t see a way out. But I know I was so caught up in my own pain I didn’t think about how badly it would affect you. I was thoughtless and I’m so sorry.”

“I know. And I feel like a horrible person by getting upset about it because you’ve told me what you were going through. But the sense of abandonment belongs to the teenaged me who didn’t know about any of that.”

“You’re not horrible, not at all. How could you have known when I didn’t tell you?”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Because I didn’t know back then what I was feeling. Or how to verbalise it.”

“I was so lost Deels.”

“I know. But now we’ve found each other again.”

“I don’t want to be lost again.”

“I know.”


	24. The more you know, the more you love her

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Delia reveals more of her past to Patsy.

“This was the reason you said we should take it slow. Bloody hell Pats, do you always have to be right?”

Knowing that Delia was trying to lighten the mood, Patsy managed a chuckle, but it rang hollow. Her emotions still too raw and chaotic to see the humour.

“Alright, come on then. I need to give you a proper cuddle and I can’t do that when you’re sitting there and I’m standing here.”

Delia released her hold on Patsy. Moved to the sofa and eyed it for a moment. Tugged off the cushions and pulled the handle to extend the bed. It released with a metallic groan, and Delia grunted in satisfaction when it was assembled. Propped the cushions against the back of the sofa to form a backrest.

Gestured for Patsy to join her.

Patsy waited for Delia to be seated. Crawled onto the bed and let herself sink against Delia’s shoulder. Arms wrapped tightly around the smaller woman’s waist. Legs extending far beyond Delia’s feet. It was that more than anything that made her smile. Allowed the anguish to recede a little.

“That’s better.”

They sat in silence for a long while. Patsy absorbed the simple comfort like a sponge. Content to be held and to find some peace. The silence lasted so long that Minerva peeked her head out from the bedroom. Assessed that they posed no imminent threat and made a dash for the food bowl. They listened to her methodical crunching, the lap of her tongue in the water bowl. Then a small, curious head popped up at the end of the sofa bed.

“Hello Minerva.” Quiet. “You’re welcome to join us if you like.”

The cat startled at Delia’s voice, ears flicking back. White nose twitching furiously. Disappeared out of sight. Then surprised them both by jumping up. Turned a few quick circles at the very corner, and settled down into a curl. Ears twitching. On alert.

“She’s settled in well.”

“Yes, she has.”

“Listen Pats, about this morning…”

“Mmmn?”

“Are you…” A pause. “Are you not okay with us being..?” Hesitant. “Are you not okay with us having sex? I’d hate to think that I’d rushed you into something you’re not ready for.”

Patsy felt her throat tighten, her stomach contract into an uncomfortable ball at the thought of having to talk about her reaction that morning.

“No, it’s not that. I’m more than fine with… that aspect of our relationship.”

“Well, what happened then?”

“Deels…”

“Come on Pats, help me out here. I want to understand what went wrong so we can make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

“It’s stupid. You’ll think I’m being ridiculous.”

“I might think a lot of things about you Patsy Mount but ridiculous is not one of them. Besides, ridiculous doesn’t lead to you lashing out like that. There’s more to it.”

“Must I?”

“Please Pats.”

A deep, lengthy sigh. “I just… it felt a little… sordid. Just… we didn’t even take our shoes off for god’s sake. And then you just… you had to leave straight away, and I..” Felt her cheeks flaming at the admission.

“Oh.”

“You see? Ridiculous.”

“Stop. Seriously. It’s not ridiculous. I never, _ever_ want you to feel anything less than special, so I need to know what doesn’t work for you Pats.”

“Now you’ll think I’m a gigantic prude. And it’s not that. Well, not entirely.”

“I don’t think anything of the sort Pats. We’re still getting to know each other, and that’s going to take a while.”

“It wasn’t the sex Deels.” Quiet. “I am very much okay with that.”

“It was the leaving afterwards?”

“Mmmm hmmm.”

“Okay.” A pause. “Thank you for telling me.”

“I wish I’d never said anything.” Mournful.

“I’m glad you did. Otherwise you’d still have that nasty feeling inside you and I wouldn’t know what was going on. We’ve waited too long for this chance Pats. We can’t blow it on something as simple as not talking.”

“You’re right. Of course you’re right.”

“It’ll get easier.”

“You think so? You do know me right?”

“Not as well as I wish I did.”

“Deels…”

“We’ve missed so much Pats.” There was an edge to Delia’s voice that Patsy had never heard. “When I think about it I get so angry. And so sad at the same time. I feel like that was ten years of my life that… no, ten years of my happiness wasted.”

“I know.”

“Listen Pats, there’s… something I feel like I need to tell you. But I know it’s late, and you’ve got a morning shift tomorrow.”

Patsy glanced at the clock. Winced.

“You must be exhausted too Deels. You already worked a long day today.”

“I am. But it feels like the right time.”

Patsy ran a quick mental check of her body. Weighed up her responses and the long, long nap she’d had that afternoon. And the perceptible stress she could feel in the smaller woman’s limbs.

“I had a nap earlier. I’ll be okay.” A pause. “Should I boil the kettle?”

 

* * *

 

 

Twenty minutes later they sat at the kitchen table clutching mugs of hot chocolate. A packet of chocolate digestives torn open on the surface in front of them.

They sat side by side.

“It’ll be easier if I’m not looking at you.”

Patsy’s heart constricted. Brain whirling as she worried about Delia’s impending revelation.

“Only three other people but me know this. Owen, my therapist and… my doctor, back in Wales.”

“Owen is…”

“The man I married, yes.”

Pasty clamped down fiercely on her involuntary reaction. Took a sip of her chocolate.

“You don’t need to be jealous, you know?”

Clearly hadn’t schooled her reaction quite enough. “I’m trying not to be.”

“I won’t go into specifics. I’ve already told you when I married him I was in a very dark place. But I was also very young, and so was he. And after a while I found out I was pregnant.” The smaller woman drew in a deep breath. Exhaled slowly. Clearly braced herself to tell the next part of the story. “I’d already started seeing a psychologist by then, so my mental health was improving. But I wasn’t in any kind of fit state to be a parent. I certainly had never had a good maternal role model.” Wry. “Trying to come to terms with what to do, what choice to make… it really set back so much progress. And so Owen and I decided that it would be best to not try to bring a child into the world. That it wouldn’t be in anybody’s best interests, least of all the poor child.” Her voice cracked at that, and Patsy reached for Delia’s hand. Tentative. Relieved when Delia gripped her fingers and held on. “I think that was my lowest point. But it made me fight harder to recover. Because I wanted to be damn sure that if it ever happened again, I’d be ready.”

“Oh Deels…”

“I did it, you know? I worked hard to get my life back together, to come to terms with who I am and who I was never going to be. And I thought I’d done it. I thought that when I finally moved to London and started studying to be a midwife that I’d come full circle and that I’d left it in the past where it belonged.” A pause. “I even got a bloody tattoo, I literally put Wales and all the terrible things that had happened to me there behind me.”

Delia shook her head. Reflective.

“It wasn’t until I met you again that I realised how much of it I’d just blocked off. That I hadn’t properly come to terms with everything after all.”

“Like me.”

“Well, maybe just a little better than you.”

“Probably.”

The Welsh woman finally looked up. Met Patsy’s eyes. And the intensity of the connection stole the breath from Patsy’s lungs.

“And now… Now I feel like it’s time to revisit some things from my past. Because one of the best parts of my past is you. And now that I’ve found you again I really feel like I can do this. I can stop forgetting that I’m Welsh, and that I have people back there that I care about.”

They stared at each other for a long moment. Patsy’s heart thundered in an arrhythmic fusion of pride and awe and love and sorrow. “You are such an amazing person. How did I get so lucky?”

“I don’t believe in god, you know? Mam always dragged me to church but the more I saw of the world, the less I believed that there could be a god who let terrible things happen.” A breath. “I don’t believe in god, but I think it was more than a coincidence that we saw each other on the train that day.”

“I don’t believe in god either. Or anything else for that matter. But I think you may be right about that.”

“We were meant to find each other again.”

Patsy didn’t believe in anything except what her senses could verify, but when she hugged Delia there at the kitchen table it felt like destiny. That there were two strands of life that twined together to form a new thread. A stronger thread. One that would lead them into a better future.

She looked forward to every step of the journey.


	25. People will say we're in love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trixie hangs out with Patsy and Delia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some fluff to make up for the emotional ride of the last two chapters.

Their shifts didn’t mesh for almost a week again, but it no longer felt so onerous. At the end of her shift she’d find a selfie waiting. Or an emoji message upon waking. Once she’d even walked out of a surgery to find Trixie clutching an enormous bunch of flowers, the smile on her face so wide it almost eclipsed the unrestrained curiosity in blue eyes.

“Those aren’t actually for me are they?”

“Of course they are, sweetie.” Dug around inside the arrangement until she extracted a small white rectangle. “Now will you please open this and tell me exactly what prompted Delia to send them?”

Patsy stepped back as Trixie practically thrust the card in her face. Took the envelope from her best friend’s eager grasp and flicked it open.

> _I love you._

Heart melting, Patsy stood there fighting with herself for a long moment. Actually took a step towards the door before she remembered the patients she still had to see that afternoon.

“Well?”

In lieu of a response Patsy simply handed over the card. Watched as Trixie glanced at it. Eyes widening in disbelief.

“She really is too good to be true.”

“I know.”

“Patsy Mount, you are one lucky woman.”

“I am very much aware of that Trixie.”

“I think it’s time we arranged a catch up with the three of us.”

“Trixie..”

“Honestly Patsy, I never see you except at work. I’m well aware that you spend whatever time you can with Delia, ergo if I want to see you it’s easiest if Delia’s also there.”

There was no arguing with Trixe when she was so adamant.

So it was that Patsy found herself sitting at her own kitchen table two nights later, the detritus of dinner strewn on the counters behind her. With her two favourite people, sharing an overpriced bottle of wine and bickering about whether American spelling was allowable in Scrabble.

“It’s completely legal when I play online.”

“That’s online, sweetie. This is not the internet, it’s the United Kingdom.”

“And..?”

“When in England, spell like the Queen.”

“That’s a completely fatuous argument. I guarantee the average Brit uses far more Americanisms than they do the Queen’s English.”

“That doesn’t make it right.”

Patsy took another healthy sip of wine. Studied her own letters intently.

“Patsy, it’s your home and your board, so you must set the rules. Are we going to allow Delia to use American spelling?”

Another sip, and Patsy looked up to find herself pinned in place by two sets of intent blue eyes.

“Well…” Patsy cleared her throat. “To be perfectly frank I’d rather pack up the whole thing entirely than have to adjudicate between you two.” A pause. “You’ve put me in a position I’m not really happy with.”

Delia softened instantly, her expression morphing from resolute to remorseful in a heartbeat. Reached out a small hand and grasped Patsy’s fingers.

“Sorry Pats. It’s fine, we can play with whatever rules you and Trixie always use.”

“Oh for goodness sake. We weren’t serious Patsy, and you know it.” It was brusque, but the blonde reached over to top up Patsy’s glass. Flashed Patsy a contrite look. “New players call for new rules, that’s only fair. Let’s try it with spelling variations.” A pause. “It doesn’t matter, I’ll win regardless.”

A gauntlet thrown down.

And the challenge accepted. Delia’s posture straightened, a determined look settling on her features that rendered her even more adorable than usual. “We’ll see about that.”

Later, Patsy credited her win to the wine. And her desperate desire to avoid further conflict.

 

* * *

 

 

The third bottle was significantly depleted before Trixie bade them goodnight. They had, rather sensibly, not started a second game. Opting instead to eat crisps and drink wine and simply talk.

So she was suitably impaired by the time Trixie stood, and stretched.

“I’ll be off then.”

“Should I call you a cab?”

“Already done sweetie. They should be here any moment.”

“Oh.”

Trixie smiled down at her. Fond. “You’ve had rather too much to drink Patsy. I’d suggest you take yourself off to bed with a glass of water and some panadol.” A pause. “And possibly some company.”

“Trixie!” She tried to look scandalised, she truly did. But Delia’s slow chuckle was very distracting and rather spoiled the effect.

The blonde reached down, hugged both Patsy and Delia. Deposited affectionate kisses on both cheeks.

“Goodnight you two.”

The door latched behind her with a soft click, leaving the apartment quiet and still. Which Patsy was grateful for when her stomach lurched uncomfortably.

“Oh dear.”

Delia gazed at her. Silently handed over a glass of water.

“Why didn’t you stop me from drinking so much Deels?” Plaintive. “I’m going to feel so rubbish in the morning.”

“Later today, you mean?”

“Must you be so cruel?”

The Welsh woman laughed softly. “Drink your water Pats. Then we’ll get you into bed.”

“I’m going to be no good for anything.” Mournful.

“That’s rather obvious.” But her tone was indulgent rather than piqued.

Patsy forced down a second glass of water, changed into her pyjamas while Delia fussed about in the kitchen. Clambered into bed and listened as Delia chatted quietly to Minerva, topped up her food and water bowls. Turned off the lights.

Appeared in the doorway wearing boxer shorts and a tank and Patsy cursed herself for her shortsighted overindulgence.

“I’m a bloody idiot.”

The smaller woman laughed, switched off the lamp. Climbed carefully into the bed and snuggled against Patsy’s side.

“Get some sleep, cariad. You’ll feel better in the morning.”

 

* * *

 

 

Patsy didn’t feel better in the morning. Almost cried when her alarm went off and she became cognisant of the pounding in her skull. But she was damned if she was going to miss work because of a hangover. It wasn’t professional, not at all.

She allowed herself a couple of moments to roll over. Wrapped her arms around the small body in her bed and just breathed. Delia murmured contentedly when she pressed a kiss to a well defined shoulder.

The shower cleared some of the lingering fog, and mostly alleviated the throbbing in her head. Patsy emerged from the bathroom to find Delia up and dressed, a steaming cup of tea waiting.

“Oh. You really are an angel.”

Blue eyes rolled, but Delia couldn’t suppress a smile. “Good morning Pats.”

“Morning.”

When Delia hugged her Patsy actually sighed in relief. The last of the pain receding in the warm glow of Delia’s embrace.

“I need to get going.”

“You won’t stay for some breakfast?”

“I don’t have time. I need to go and change before I go to work. It doesn’t look so great when you turn up in the same clothes.”

“Not usually, no.”

“Next time we both have a morning free I’m going to stay. So I don’t need to rush off.”

“I’d like that.”

“You owe me a breakfast.”

 

* * *

 

 

Patsy was so prepared for breakfast. She’d spent her day off shopping and cleaning and doing laundry, and the flat was spotless. Minerva was quite put out, and refused to be petted. Skulked into the bedroom and curled herself into the shelves in the bedhead. Sneezed her displeasure.

She tried to read. Tried to watch the television. But it was too hard to settle to anything when she knew that Delia was going to be there tonight. And better yet that Delia was going to stay.

Seeking distraction, Patsy darted across the corridor. Knocked on Phyllis’ door.

It opened to reveal the older woman bundled up in her coat, holding a lead and a dog jacket.

“Oh Patsy! Good afternoon.”

A tiny yip sounded from somewhere behind Phyllis, then a small brown body wriggled its way between her legs to tumble at Patsy’s feet. Perrito shook his head, ears flapping alarmingly. Before righting himself and gazing up at Patsy.

“Hello Phyllis. Hi Perrito!” She knelt to scratch between soft ears. “I was going to ask if Perrito could entertain me for a little while, but I can see that you’re on your way out.”

“I’m just off to take Perrito for his evening constitutional. You’re more than welcome to join us.”

“If you’re sure..?”

“I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t sure.”

“Alright then. Thank you. I’ll just fetch my coat.”

Gave the dog one last scratch under his tiny chin before ducking back into the flat. Grabbed a jacket and a beanie. Winter was ebbing into spring but the late afternoons were still very crisp.

Phyllis waited in the hallway, Perrito sitting patiently at her side. He bounced up excitedly when he saw Patsy’s winter gear.

“Yes lad, Patsy’s going to come for a walk with us. You be sure and behave now.”

He sniffed, tiny nose held in the air. Glared at Phyllis until she handed the leash to Patsy.

“Well, it looks like you’re in charge this evening Patsy.”

They set off for the park across the road, Perrito’s tiny black nose sniffing endlessly. He stopped at every bench, every tree. Each piece of litter had to be investigated. Each new sprig of green pushing courageously through the cold earth. It was just a small park but Perrito was so thorough that the gloom of evening was settling before he was ready to head back inside.

“Forgive me for prying, lass, but you seem much happier today. I take it you sorted your differences with Delia.”

“Yes. We had a good talk. And things are much better now.”

“I’m glad to hear it. Did you ask her to move in as I suggested?”

“Not yet. We’re not… We’re not quite there yet, I think.”

“Remember what I said Patsy. Grab on with both hands, you hear me?”

“Yes Phyllis.”

“Good. Mind you do.”

The lift opened and Patsy’s heart skipped. Doubled its pace when she saw Delia leaning against the apartment door. The Welsh woman was smiling, still in her scrubs and looking disheveled, but her eyes were so so blue and Patsy wondered if she’d ever lose the visceral reaction she had to Delia’s presence.

She hoped not.

“Good evening Delia!”

“Hi Phyllis!”

“Patsy and I have just returned from walking my dog. You haven’t met him yet. This is my Perrito.”

“He’s adorable.”

“And he knows it. Go ahead and say hello.”

Perrito was eyeing the Welsh woman cautiously. Held his ground when she knelt beside him, and held out her fingers for him to smell. He sniffed for a long, intent moment. Before giving a satisfied yip and pushing his head into Delia’s hand for a pat.

“Oh, he’s so soft. And beautiful.”

Perrito wriggled in ecstasy as Delia scratched around his ears, down the ridge of his spine. Rolled over and presented his belly with an expectant look.

Delia laughed, and Patsy’s heart soared. Knelt so that she could also give the dachshund a parting scratch.

“Alright you spoiled thing. We’d best get you inside for your supper.”

Perrito let out a long suffering sigh. Rolled himself back to his feet with an audible grunt.

“Thanks for the walk Phyllis.”

“Any time, lass. I know Perrito will be very pleased for you to join us again. You too Delia.”

“Goodnight Phyllis.”

“Night girls.”

Delia hefted her satchel. Waited patiently as Patsy fumbled in her coat pocket for her keys. The air seemed to grow thicker with each passing second. Acutely aware of Delia’s gaze, of the warmth of Delia’s body as she stood close. She almost cheered when her fingers finally closed around cold metal. Focused every part of her concentration on finding the correct key, inserting it into the lock.

They’d barely cleared the door frame when Patsy heard Delia's bag land on the floor, somewhere in the vicinity of the sofa. Then her back met the door and Delia’s lips found hers and she wasn’t really conscious of anything else.


	26. What you will, reprised

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patsy (finally) asks Delia to move in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had such a strong vision of the events of this chapter for a while now. It was nice to actually get it out of my brain and onto the screen.

Patsy lay on the bed, watching Delia with no little bemusement. The Welsh woman rifled through Patsy’s closet, pulling out clothes and studying them seriously. Dresses and skirts and trousers had all been found wanting, until finally Delia lit upon Patsy’s bespoke suit.

“Oh. This is perfect.”

“Perfect for what?”

“Never you mind. I’m planning a surprise.”

“I don’t like surprises Deels.”

“Trust me, Pats. I think you’ll like this one.”

Patsy made a non-committal noise. Smirked when Delia raised a knowing eyebrow.

“Just out of curiosity, why do you own a suit? It doesn’t seem very… you. Although I’ve no doubt you look magnificent in it.”

“Hardly.” A self-deprecating snort. “I wore it to my graduation. It was such a boys club, and damned if I wanted them sniggering and being sexist. They couldn’t very well comment when I was wearing the same thing as them.”

Delia laughed, lightly. Held up the suit and glanced at Patsy. “I’m trying to visualise you in this, but it’s very distracting having you lying there naked.”

She savoured the tiny thrill of power as Delia’s voice hitched slightly on the last word. The pulse of excitement. Stretched languorously and deliberately before arranging herself in an exaggerated, seductive pose.

“Patsy…”

She watched in fascination as emotions flitted across the smaller woman’s face, too rapid to discern clearly. Almost convinced that she was going to end up with her arms full of concentrated Welsh passion

Instead found herself with a mouthful of fabric as Delia flung the jacket at her.

“Stop teasing. And put this on.”

“What, without anything else?”

“Yes. Exactly like that.”

Suffice to say, the jacket didn’t remain on for very long. And Patsy had to have it dry cleaned and pressed before their date.

 

* * *

 

 

Patsy tugged on her cuffs as she stood outside Delia’s door. She was unaccountably nervous, had needed to talk herself into ringing the doorbell.

Footsteps, and the door swung open to reveal a petite woman, face framed by a mass of strawberry blonde curls. She gave Patsy a warm, if overly gummy smile.

“You must be Patsy! Delia’s just on the phone, do come in.”

“Oh. Thank you.”

“I’m Winnie, Delia’s new flatmate.”

“Of course. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Delia had mentioned the recent change in housemate rather tetchily. Winnie was apparently infuriatingly cheerful at any time of the day or night, and Delia had more than once bemoaned the loss of her previous flatmate Jenny, who had moved in with her boyfriend.

“I must say, I like your suit! You look very distinguished.”

“Ah… Thank you.”

Was saved from having to find something to talk to Winnie about when a soft voice issued from somewhere behind her.

“Oh… wow.”

Patsy spun on her heel to find Delia frozen in the nearby doorway, eyes wide. With wonder and maybe the smallest hint of lust.

Had to swallow hard as she took in the smaller woman’s outfit. Delia wore a teal halter-neck dress, patterned with white polka-dots. The neckline plunged purposefully into her cleavage, waist cinched tight. The skirt flared out and fell to Delia’s knees. Dark brown hair had been braided around the sides of her head, secured at the back by a silver clasp that allowed the rest of her hair to fall in soft curls down her back.

Patsy felt herself flush.

“You look absolutely stunning Deels.” She’d never been so sincere in her life.

“So do you.”

It was difficult to stand still under Delia’s frank and appreciative appraisal. But she was supremely aware of Winnie, grinning at them both.

“I feel like we’re in the middle of an American movie and you two are about to head off to the prom, or whatever they call it. I should be taking photos.”

Patsy was about to scoff at the suggestion when she caught the gleam of interest in blue eyes. Thought about Trixie’s face if she saw them like this.

“Actually Winnie that’s not a bad idea. Do you mind?”

“Of course not!”

Patsy handed over her phone and they glanced about the room, trying to decide on the best spot to take a photo. Ended up in front of the overflowing bookshelves.

“I knew you’d have an outrageous amount of books.”

“Hush you.”

They struck a couple of poses, hamming it up and pulling faces. Delia insisted on taking a ridiculous confection of a photo with her leg raised in the back and her hands gripping Patsy’s shoulders, the look on her face straight out of a Marilyn Monroe film. It was patently absurd, and yet the intensity in Delia’s eyes was enough to rob the breath from her lungs.

Delia let the moment build. Patsy was conscious of the smaller woman’s foot settling to the ground. Of hands reaching up to straighten her tie. But it was all in the periphery as she stared into cornflower blue and just absorbed the energy sparking between them.

“That’s going to be a cracking photo. Definitely one for the album.”

Winnie insisted on a few more poses, but eventually Patsy rescued her phone. Helped Delia into her coat and watched in mute pleasure as the Welsh woman collected her things, slipped a pair of silver heels into her bag.

“Have fun you two.”

“We will. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

 

* * *

 

 

Delia remained tight-lipped about their destination and it was only once they arrived that Patsy got the first clue about Delia’s plans. The building was beautiful, art deco and lovingly restored to glory. The afternoon sun caught the leadlight window panes, burnished the brass fittings. Patsy was so busy admiring the façade that she barely registered the sign.

Ballroom. Swing dancing classes.

Knew her shock translated to her face when Delia broke into peals of laughter.

“Honestly Pats, anyone would think I was leading you to your execution.”

“Dancing, Delia? Really?”

“Yes, really.”

“Oh dear.”

“Come on Pats. Ever since we were kids I’ve had this dream of dancing with you.”

“You have?”

“Mmmm hmmmn.”

“Oh.”

“It’s only for an hour. And if you hate it we won’t come back.”

“Delia stop. How could I hate it? I’ll be with you.”

Knew she’d said exactly the right thing when cornflower lightened to sky blue and Delia’s smile shined brighter than the sun. Dimples in full force.

It was actually pretty fun once Patsy realised that nobody was paying the slightest attention to how klutzy she was. Delia was patient, her enthusiasm so infectious that it took surprisingly little time for Patsy to loosen up and get involved. It didn’t hurt that Delia had swapped her flats for the heels before they started and she was now that much closer to Patsy’s lips, and when they danced together there was a tantalising frisson of attraction. Their bodies generating friction in new and unanticipated ways.

Patsy was genuinely disappointed when the hour was over. Knew that Delia saw it in her face and that they’d be back.

The late afternoon light was golden as they stepped out the ballroom. The sun hung low and huge over the horizon, gilding the streets of London with a warm, peaceful glow.

They walked hand in hand, silent.

 

* * *

 

 

Delia kept her eye on the time through dinner, and Patsy wondered what else was in store for them that evening. The Welsh woman paid the tab before Patsy could protest, hailed a cab and bundled them into the back.

They were apparently headed to the West End, but beyond that Delia refused to divulge. Simply smiled and linked their fingers and Patsy allowed herself to get distracted by the knowing smile that lifted the corners of Delia’s mouth and caused her blue blue eyes to sparkle.

Delia tugged on her heels once again before they clambered out of the cab. Exited onto the crowded pavement. The anticipation in the air was palpable as people waited for the theatre doors to open.

They were going to see The Twelfth Night, and Patsy really didn’t see how Delia could be any more perfect.

It was one of the most surreal experiences of Patsy’s life. Watching the play unfold before them, remembering the past, with Delia sitting by her side. One hand resting on Patsy’s thigh. The sense of time overlapping intensified by the director’s adaptation, a gender swapping element that had been introduced for a couple of the characters.

Completely subconsciously, Patsy found her hand had migrated to Delia’s leg. Her fingers had pushed up the hem of the smaller woman’s skirt just a fraction, and were settled comfortably against the curve of a strong, warm thigh. When she realised what she’d done Patsy gasped. Tried to extricate her hand but her movement was arrested as Delia gripped her wrist. Held firm until Patsy relaxed, allowed Delia to resettle her hand.

She lost track of what was happening on the stage when deft fingers unclasped her cufflink. Discreetly rolled up her shirtsleeve and began tracing delicate patterns on the sensitive skin of Patsy’s inner arm.

Really, it was only fair when she began doing the same thing on Delia’s inner thigh.

The teasing only abated when the play drew near to its close, when the action on stage captured their attention and Patsy’s memory. She could practically envisage Delia on the stage, her Olivia encapsulating everything fierce and bold and wonderful. Could feel that same sense of elation and fervour and her overwhelming affection for Delia. The blood roared in her ears and drowned out the applause, the cheers. Every part of her attention was focused on Delia.

And this time… This time when they got home there would be no interruptions, no teachers, no evil Headmistresses. This time would be theirs.

The cab ride home was excruciating. Patsy was painfully aware of the cabbie’s curious looks in the mirror. Vowed to keep her hands to herself. But Delia snuggled up against her, caught her wrist and tugged until Patsy’s hand disappeared once more between smooth thighs. Delia’s lips parted on a quiet sigh, her hips rotating in a subtle but perceptible motion.

Patsy felt the answering tug low in her pelvis. Had to bite her lip.

She wasn’t sure who paid or how they made it into the building and up the elevator. Her mind was a blank canvas, and Delia was filling it with splashes of blue and gold and white hot spikes of hunger that threatened to override her ability to so much as breathe.

Time slowed as the apartment door shut behind them. Delia dropped her bag and her coat, bent to unstrap her heels. Patsy could only watch. And yearn.

Delia smiled as she rose. It wasn’t sweet. It wasn’t cheeky. It was the smile of the hunter who knows that what they want is within their grasp and nothing is going to stop them. Small hands reached up to slip the jacket from Patsy’s shoulders. It too found a home on the floor as Delia pushed Patsy backwards.

Her legs hit the sofa and Patsy felt herself fall onto the cushions. Scrambled to sit up as Delia reached up under her dress and simply pulled off her knickers, letting them slide down her legs. She stepped out of them without thought, then clasped Patsy’s shoulders.

“Sit forward.”

Patsy edged forward until only her bum was on the sofa, and Delia nodded in satisfaction. Used her knees to widen Patsy’s stance.

Sank down to straddle her legs.

“I have not been able to stop thinking about this all night.”

Her mouth was too dry to form speech. Patsy hoped that Delia could interpret the questioning sound that she kind of aspirated.

“Give me your hands.” Quietly commanding. Patsy would have given her the moon and the stars if she could. Her hands seemed a paltry offering. One hand was guided to the small of Delia’s back. The other underneath the hem of that teal dress. “I need you inside me.”

“Oh…” Delia was heat and fire and need and when Patsy’s fingers pushed inside she couldn’t suppress her groan of appreciation. “Fuck. Deels.”

“Yes, Pats. Please.”

They rocked together, Delia’s hips undulating against Patsy’s hand, her breath coming in short hard gasps. Patsy felt her head grow hot, felt the flush of blood and lust and used her other hand to pull Delia forward. Her mouth found the pulse at Delia’s throat. Bit down.

“Oh god. Patsy.”

Delia’s hips lost their rhythm, her breath caught in one long exhalation. Almost frantic, Patsy curled her fingers. Pressed the palm of her hand firmly against Delia’s centre as she felt Delia’s muscles contract, her back arching with exquisite tension.

As the shudders wracked the smaller woman’s body Patsy found herself on the brink of tears. Pulled Delia close and just kissed her and kissed her and kissed her until neither of them could breathe, until the tremors subsided.

Gently withdrew her fingers and wrapped her arms around Delia’s waist, burying her face in Delia’s neck and just letting herself feel the connection between them. After a long quiet moment of peace, Delia stirred. Leaned back a little so she could look at Patsy.

“You are amazing.”

“No, _you_ are amazing.”

The smaller woman smiled, shrugged lightly. “Alright. We’re both amazing.” Leaned forward to press a kiss against Patsy’s lips. “I think you’re more amazing.” Punctuated by a breathless giggle.

“Deels?”

“Hmmn?”

“I don’t want you to leave.”

“I’m not going anywhere Pats, you know that.”

“I don’t want you to leave ever.”

“What..?”

“Move in with me.”

Blue eyes drilled into Patsy’s. Serious. Contemplative.

“Please Delia. I don’t ever want to be apart from you again.”

“Yes.”

“You mean it?”

“Yes.”


	27. I would do anything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Delia and Patsy go on a road trip to Pembrokeshire

“Pats… Remember how you told me that you’d be willing to take on my mother?”

“Of course I do.”

“How serious were you?”

“Well, to be honest, I was just saying that to get into your pants…”

Delia laughed, lilting, but blue eyes drilled into blue. Patsy inhaled deeply, reached out to clasp Delia’s fingers.

“I’ll be there for you whatever you need Deels. Whenever. Wherever. And if that means braving Mrs Busby then I’ll do it.” A pause. “I mean, it doesn’t sound like the most fun in the world, but at least we’ll do it together.”

“I don’t really want to see Mam. But… here’s the thing. I spoke to Owen earlier. His girlfriend just had a baby and I’d really love to meet him.” Delia brought both their hand together, held Patsy’s within her own. “And I think it would be good for you to meet Owen too. So you would know exactly how much you don’t need to be jealous.”

“I know I have nothing to be jealous of.” But her voice was tight and brittle and Delia smiled ruefully.

“I get it Pats. I do. The thought of you with Lucy used to drive me around the bend, honestly. And it’s different with Lucy because you’re not still friends any more, unlike me and Owen. But I love you and I’ve always loved you, even when I was with him. He’ll always be special to me because… because he gave my life back to me. He supported me when no one else was there for me. But it was only ever to lead me back to you.”

“My brain knows all that Deels. It’s just my heart that’s a bit slow to catch on.”

“Well, your heart belongs to me anyway, so it needs to listen.” Accompanied by an adorably stern expression and a finger point.

“It does indeed.”

The sparkle faded from blue eyes, small shoulders hunched defensively.

“I can’t really get away with going back to Pembrokeshire without seeing my parents. And… I really miss my Da. He just… Mam kind of railroaded him on everything, and he… Well, more often than not it’s just easier to let Mam have her way.” A pause. “So I’ll need to see her. And it’ll be easier if you’re there beside me.”

“Every step of the way Delia.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

 

* * *

 

 

Trixie agreed to look after Minerva in their absence. She even offered to stay at their apartment so Minerva didn’t feel abandoned, but Patsy suspected that had more to do with the bathtub than a genuine desire to keep the cat company.

Phyllis had offered to look after Minerva when she found out about their trip, and when Patsy mentioned that they already had a cat sitter Phyllis immediately offered something even better.

“You must take my car Patsy. I know you don’t have one of your own, and the public transport options between here and the far end of Wales are less than agreeable.”

“Oh we couldn’t possibly…”

“You can and you will. My car is very reliable, and quite comfortable for long journeys. And having a vehicle at your disposal will mean you are free to leave if the situation proves to be less than satisfactory.”

“That’s very kind of you Phyllis. I don’t want to seem like we’re taking advantage of you.”

“Nonsense. I’ve grown quite fond of that young lady of yours Patsy. I know this is going to be a difficult trip for her, and if there’s anything I can do to ease that for her I will. Giving you the lend of my car is really the very least I can do.”

Patsy often came home from a long shift to find Phyllis and Delia sharing a cup of tea, Perrito curled at Delia’s feet. Minerva had been most disgruntled at this canine intrusion, but as the weeks progressed the animals had settled into a truce. More often than not she would retreat into the cubby hole of her climbing tower, but occasionally she would deign to perch on the arm of the sofa.

“Are you sure you won’t need it?”

“Patsy, lass, you’ll be gone for three days. I can manage without it perfectly well.”

 

* * *

 

 

Phyllis’s car was an older model Volvo, full of hard edges and severe lines. It suited Phyllis so perfectly that Patsy had to work hard to suppress a grin when she collected the keys the morning of their departure.

The two hundred and fifty miles should have felt onerous, but given that their shift schedules rarely aligned it felt like a treat to have six solid and uninterrupted hours together. It had only just gone three when they pulled up behind a large, well maintained cottage.

As Patsy unfolded herself from the driver’s seat and stretched out legs cramped from driving, the back door opened. A tall, dark haired man stepped out into the afternoon sun, squinting.

“Delia!”

“Owen!”

The Welsh woman let out an excited cry, raced around the car to throw her arms around his waist.

“Delia bach, it’s been too long.”

“I know, Owen. I know.”

Patsy stood awkwardly to one side as they embraced, Delia fitting so comfortably into his arms that it quite wrenched at Patsy’s heart. Her throat constricted. She was about to look away when Delia angled away slightly, a small hand reaching out.

“Pats, come here.”

The smaller woman stepped back, tugged Patsy closer once their fingers joined. “Owen, I’d like you to meet Patsy. Pats, this is Owen.”

Friendly brown eyes smiled into hers for a moment, then Patsy was startled when he stepped forward and pulled Patsy into a hug.

“I’m very pleased to finally meet you Patsy. I feel like I’ve heard about you for at least half of my life, it’s nice to finally put a face to a name.” A pause. “And what a lovely face it is.”

His accent was much more pronounced than Delia’s, his smile and energy so engaging it was hard not to like him instantly.

“You two must be tired from the drive. Come in, come in, and I’ll get the tea going.”

As they walked into the house they could hear the discontented crying of an unsettled baby.

“Sorry about the racket. Rhys has woken up very grizzly this afternoon. Katie is just seeing to him now.” He indicated that they should place their bags at the foot of the stairs, gestured into the kitchen. Owen bustled about with a tea pot and cups as they stood about awkwardly.

“Is there anything we can do?”

“No! No, it’s all fine.”

They made stilted small talk while the kettle boiled, relieved when Owen finally poured the water into the pot and picked up the tea tray.

“Come through to the living room and you can meet Katie and Rhys.”

They followed him into the adjoining room, a large high-ceilinged space done in airy yellows. The brightness of the room contrasted sharply with the blonde woman sitting on the well worn sofa. Tension and frustration radiated from her, focused on the tiny baby in her arms.

“Katie love, Delia and Patsy are here. And I’ve made some tea.”

“Oh. Hello. Sorry about this.” She smiled but it didn’t really reach her eyes.

Patsy stepped forward and smiled, aware of the stiffness in Delia’s petite frame. “Hi Katie. It’s nice to meet you. And the little fellow there.”

“He’s not having a good day unfortunately.”

“No, he doesn’t seem very happy.”

Owen served the tea while they sat, but Delia’s remained untouched on the coffee table in front of her. Blue eyes glued to the crying form in Katie’s arms.

Patsy hesitated, then stood. “Katie, would you mind if I had a hold of young Rhys there?”

“But he’s crying.”

“That’s quite alright. I deal with crying babies every day, I’m quite used to it.”

Katie wavered for a moment, before thrusting the small bundle in Patsy’s direction. Patsy clasped Rhys to her chest, listening to his cries and feeling this tension in his tiny frame. Sat and laid him out along her thighs, observing the instinct to curl back into the foetal position.

“My my young man, you seem to be in a little discomfort.”

She gently palpated his belly, unable to suppress a hiss of displeasure when his abdomen felt tight and swollen.

“Oh you poor sweet little thing. You’ve got a touch of colic don’t you?”

Studiously ignored the three sets of eyes on her as she picked Rhys up again, cuddled him to her chest in an upright position supporting his bottom with one hand while she stood. Used the other hand to carefully massage his back. Two laps of the living room, and finally a huge fart reverberated through the space. And another.

And the crying stopped.

“Oh, that’s better isn’t it?”

Tiny tear filled brown eyes opened to look up at Patsy. And he smiled, a gummy drooling open mouthed smile that only little babies were capable of. It melted her heart every time.

One last snuggle, and she deposited Rhys back into his mother’s arms.

“Patsy, thank you! You’re a miracle worker.”

“I’m really no such thing. It’s my job to work with tiny humans and to make them feel better.”

Owen overwhelmed her with another hug and a litany of praise and thanks, but it was the look on Delia’s face that was her real reward. Blue eyes just stared at her, so open and so full of love and Patsy’s heart glowed in response.


	28. Where the heart is

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to meet the Busbys.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like so many people have used Enid for Mrs Busby's name that it's practically canon. So I'm using it too.

The afternoon melted into evening in a blur of baby cuddling and tea and conversation. As the sun disappeared Owen replaced the tea with a rather pleasant dark ale, and by the time Rhys woke from his next nap and Katie disappeared into the kitchen to prepare supper, Patsy was feeling the effects. She trailed Katie into the kitchen, determined to drink at least two pints of water and to help with the meal.

Katie laughed, set her up at the counter with some water and strict instructions to entertain the baby.

They chatted as Katie cooked, mostly about Rhys but also about Patsy and Delia’s history. The volume from the living room increased, and Patsy noticed she could no longer make out what Delia and Owen were saying.

“Oh lord help us, they’ve devolved into Welsh.”

Supper was almost ready by the time Delia appeared, bouncing slightly off the door frame and giggling to herself.

“There you are!” She ambled over to the counter, eyeing the meal preparations eagerly. “That smells amazing!” A small hand reached out to clasp Patsy’s knee, steadying herself.

“Thank you. It won’t be long now.”

Delia snuggled up to Patsy’s side, smiled down at Rhys. “Hey cutie. You’re so lucky you’re wearing a nappy.”

Patsy couldn’t suppress her laugh. “Deels, the loo is down the hall, past the stairway.”

Wide blue eyes stared up at her. “How did you know I needed to go?”

“Lucky guess.”

She watched fondly as Delia manoeuvred through the kitchen door. Looked back to find herself being observed curiously by Katie.

“Does it bother you that she used to be married to a man?”

“What? No.” A pause. “It bothers me that she used to be with anybody else to be honest. The fact that it was a man is irrelevant.”

Katie bit her lip for a moment. Inhaled deeply. “If I’m honest I was a little worried about this myself. He still talks about her constantly, even all these years later.”

“And now we’re here?”

“Now you’re here I can see that they love each other, but it’s more like siblings than anything else.”

“It is, isn’t it?”

“You’re the same?”

“Yes.”

 

* * *

 

 

It wasn’t a late night in the end. Although the drinking had stopped with supper, Delia wilted by the time Rhys had his evening feed and settled down for the night. Owen was not in a much better state.

Katie showed Patsy to the attic floor, where a guestroom was done up in deep blues. Dormer windows looked out over the valley, stars shining cold and bright and clear in a cloudless sky.

“Bathroom’s the first door as you come down the stairs to the landing.”

“Thank you.”

“Will you be okay getting Delia up here? Is there anything you need?”

“No, it’s all fine. Thank you Katie.”

“You’re welcome. I hope Rhys doesn’t disturb you too much in the night.”

“I don’t think it’ll be a problem.”

Patsy coaxed Delia into drinking another glass of water before they made the trek up two flights of stairs. Although the smaller woman had been grumbling and sleepy on the climb, she made an immediate beeline for the windows as soon as they entered the room.

“Oh.” She unlatched the windows, let them swing open into the night. Leaned on the window sill and stared. “I’d forgotten how beautiful it was up here.” The moon, just off full, cast a glow over Delia’s face that was almost ethereal. When she turned to smile at Patsy hints of it lingered in blue blue eyes and Patsy actually caught her breath.

They changed in silence, leaving the windows open. The air was frigid but the blankets were warm, and the cold was worth it to see the peaceful look on Delia’s face.

“It’s funny. I didn’t realise that I missed so much. Even the air smells different.”

They cuddled together in the centre of the bed, Delia’s limbs growing heavy, draped over Patsy’s knees and abdomen. Patsy was almost certain the smaller woman had dropped off when she heard a long, drawn out sigh.

“Are you alright Deels?”

“Mmmmmn.”

“That sounds a little vague.”

“I’m okay Pats. It’s just…”

Patsy waited, letting Delia mull over whatever she was trying to say. Ran a hand through silky, dark hair, smiling to herself when Delia made a soft contended sound. Snuggled impossibly closer.

“It’s been so nice to see Owen again, and for us both to be so happy. But I can’t help thinking…” A breath. “I can’t help thinking about how Rhys could have been a little brother.”

It wasn’t wholly unexpected. But the grief that laced Delia’s voice made Patsy’s heart clench.

“I wonder sometimes if I made the right decision.”

“You were young and in a bad place Delia. From what you’ve told me you made the only decision you could.” Kept her voice gentle, hoping to draw more out of the woman in her arms.

“I know that. I know that there was really no other option. But when I look at little Rhys…” A sigh. “It makes my heart ache. Thinking about what could have been. And I hate feeling so bittersweet about it. I should just be able to be happy for Owen.”

“I’m sure he would understand Deels.”

“I know.”

“And maybe…” A pause. “Maybe one day Rhys could be a big cousin instead.”

In the stillness she heard Delia’s breathing hitch. Could practically hear the beating of the Welsh woman’s heart.

“Do you mean..?”

“When the time is right. When we’re both ready.”

“I’d like that a lot. More than a lot.”

“Me too.”

 

* * *

 

 

Owen insisted that they stay a second night at the cottage rather than check into the bed and breakfast they’d booked closer to the Busby’s. Delia had tried to argue, but in the end he’d just looked at her.

“Delia, I know your Mam. You’re going to need a safe place to come back to.”

Delia had sighed. And acquiesced.

It wasn’t a long drive to the Busby’s, but somehow it was ominous. The grey storm clouds coalescing overhead did nothing to alleviate the foreboding atmosphere.

Delia’s instructions became increasingly terse, culminating in her final direction.

“Here.”

Patsy put the car into gear, pulled the handbrake. Turned the key to quiet the engine. They sat for a moment listening to the click of the engine cooling, before Delia sighed.

“This is it.”

The house sat towards one end of the street, two marching rows of matching properties. It was built from grey stone, with white trimming on the doors and windows. The tiny front garden was neatly trimmed, and window boxes hung, precise and even, from the sills. Not a leaf was out of place, no weeds to be seen. The paved walkway free of the mossy growth common to damp climates. It was clinically neat, and Patsy shuddered thinking about her wonderfully free spirited girl being cooped up in such an environment.

Patsy spotted a small movement of the curtain in the front window. Took a deep breath before exiting the car. Opened the passenger side door and held out her hand.

“Come on Deels. Let’s get this over with.”

Had to suppress a wince as blue eyes stared up at her. Haunted.

“Oh sweetheart. If you’d really rather not we can always make a break for it. Just say the word.”

It was touch and go for a minute. It looked as though Delia was going to just shut the car door and give up on the whole thing. But then small shoulders squared, and a delicate chin lifted.

“I can do this.”

“You absolutely can.”

“And you’re going to be with me.”

“Every step of the way.”

“Okay. Let’s go.”

The door opened as Delia raised her hand to knock. A small grey-haired man peered out from the doorway, his blue eyes striking a familiar chord.

“Is that my little girl?”

“Hi Da.”

“Oh Delia, cariad. Come and give your old dad a cwtch.”

Delia gasped. Rocked on her heels before launching herself at the man in front of her. He wrapped his arms around his daughter and held tight, blue eyes closing in joy.

“My precious little girl.”

They embraced for an endless moment before Mr Busby sighed, and released his hold.

“You’d better introduce me to your friend here, cariad.”

Delia inhaled sharply. Tension visibly radiating from every line of her compact frame.

“Da, this is Patsy. Patsy, this is my father, Albert Busby.”

“Patsy… Patsy…” Grey brows furrowed over narrowed blue eyes. That suddenly widened in recognition. “You don’t mean the same Patsy that you knew when you were a girl?”

“Yes Da, the same.”

“Well, I never.” He blinked in shock, clearly at a loss for words.

“Hello Mr Busby.”

“Hello. Patsy…” His hands rotated in a circling gesture. “So you two found each other again?”

“We did, Da.”

“After all this time?”

“After ten long years.”

“And you still love each other?”

“Yes Da.”

“Well I’ll be bloody damned.” A slow grin broke across his features, taking years off his age. “Well done, cariad. Very well done.”

Delia stood stock still, blue eyes wide with disbelief.

And at that Mr Busby deflated, his features clouded. “It’s one of the biggest regrets of my life Delia. That I never stood up to your mother. That I didn’t fight for you to stay at that school. You were so miserable after that, and I didn’t know how to help you.” He stepped forward, gently clasped Delia’s hands. “Can you forgive me Delia?”

Delia stepped forward without hesitation, threw her arms around his waist, head resting against his shoulder. The look on his face was so grateful, so perfectly happy, that Patsy had to look away. Swallowed down the lump that had formed in the back of her throat.

“I missed you Da.”

“I missed you too, cariad. Every single day.”

Their heartfelt moment was shattered as a voice issued from within the house.

“Are you going to invite them in Bert, or are you planning on conducting our family business out on the stoop for all and sundry to see?”

“Come on cariad. Let’s not keep her waiting any longer.”

“She made me wait ten years Da. Ten years. I’ll not dance to her tune anymore.”

“Nor should you love. But it’s not going to make life any easier if you deliberately provoke her either.”

Patsy saw the bolshie look form on Delia’s face. “Deels…”

“Come on now Delia. You and me and Patsy are going to walk in there and we’re going to do it together. Like it always should have been.”

Blue eyes twinkled as he held out an arm, waited until Delia linked her elbow through his. Then did the same to Patsy. “Look at this, I must be the luckiest man alive with two of the prettiest girls on my arm.” One blue eye dropped into a brief wink. “Welcome to the family, Patsy love. Brace yourself.”

It was a tight fit to get them all through the hallway, but it was worth it when they squeezed into the sitting room. Mrs Busby was sitting on a stately armchair, back ramrod straight, and as she caught sight of them her mouth tightened into a moue of distaste.

“Look who I found, Enid love. It’s our very own Delia, and her girlfriend Patsy.”

Later, Patsy wished that she’d had a camera to capture the look of shock on Mrs Busby’s face. Her mouth had dropped open and she’d actually gawped at them for several seconds before her mouth shut with an audible click.

 

* * *

 

 

Afternoon tea had been a painfully stilted affair. Mrs Busby had clearly determined that she was outnumbered, had kept up a pretence of such formal civility that you wouldn’t have guessed they were related if you didn’t know. But as the afternoon progressed Patsy could see the evidence of a thaw in her demeanour. Caught a glimpse of pain in Mrs Busby’s eyes every time Delia and her father shared a story that she was excluded from.

Eventually Mr Busby stood.

“After all this tea, I need to take a little trip to the bathroom.”

“Bert…”

“You three ladies stay here, and I’ll pop the kettle on before I come back.”

He ambled off towards the rear of the house, and an uncomfortable pall settled in his wake.

“Delia…”

“What is it Mam?”

“I’m not an unsophisticated woman. I’ve read the newspaper, I know that times have changed. I know that my opinions are outdated now.”

“Antiquated rather than outdated. I’m queer Mam, and no matter what you do that’s not going to change.”

“I know Delia. I know.”

“I didn’t come here for you, you know? I came to see Da.”

“I know that too, cariad.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Delia, listen.”

“What, Mam? Have you got something you want to lecture me about?”

Patsy could feel the tension ratcheting in the room. Slid closer to Delia on the settee and placed a hand on the smaller woman’s back. Rubbed soothing circles.

Breathed a tiny sigh of relief when the set of Delia’s shoulder relaxed minutely.

Shocked when Mrs Busby shot her a tiny nod of approval.

“No lectures Delia. I can’t pretend to understand your choices, but I do know that I made mistakes in the way I treated you. And I’m not eager to keep repeating my mistakes.”

Delia simply stared. Her face impassive, but Patsy could feel the rigidity in her spine, the almost imperceptible lean towards her mother.

“Patsy, if you wouldn’t mind. I’d like a moment or two to have a talk with Delia, if I may.”

“Oh. Right.” Patsy used her free hand to reach for Delia’s, tugged until shuttered blue eyes cleared and met her own. “Deels? I won’t leave unless you tell me it’s okay.” A pause. “I promised.”

A tremulous smile, and then Delia nodded slowly. “I’ll be alright. Just don’t… Don’t go far.”

“I thought I might pop into the kitchen and see if your dad needs a hand with the tea.”

“Okay.”

Heedless of the woman across the room, watching them in uneasy fascination, Patsy brought her forehead to touch Delia’s. “I love you.” Pulled away only far enough to deposit a kiss on the tip of the smaller woman’s nose. “I’ll be in the kitchen.”

Stood and nodded to Mrs Busby before following the sounds of cups and plates being washed to find Mr Busby standing at the kitchen sink.

“Ah, Patsy.” He dried his hands on a tea towel. “How are things going in there?”

“Tense, but I think they may be making progress.”

“Excellent, excellent. Enid may be a stubborn and sometimes narrow minded woman, but she’s smart enough to know when winning a battle isn’t worth losing a war.”

“I do wish she’d come to that realisation earlier.”

“So do I, Patsy, so do I.”

“I didn’t know what to expect when we came here. I must say, you’ve far surpassed my expectations and I’m grateful for that. But Delia has had such a hard time because of her mother, and while I intend to do everything in my power to make Delia happy, I know she’ll be better if she can make peace here.”

Mr Busby smiled at her, broad and cheerful. And slightly mischievous. “I didn’t take you to be so traditional Patsy.”

“I’m sorry?”

“I didn’t expect that you’d be coming here to ask for my daughter’s hand.”

“I wasn’t aware that I had.”

“Did you not just tell me that you plan on doing whatever you can to make Delia happy?”

“Well, yes…”

“And do you want to do that for the rest of your life?”

“Of course, but…”

“So there you have it. For what it’s worth, yes you have my blessing. You two have missed out on too much already.”

Patsy could only goggle at him, gobsmacked.

Mr Busby laughed, gentle. “Settle down, Patsy love. I’m not saying you must marry her today. But don’t wait too long, mind.”


	29. Back to the start

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Patsy finally proposed, it took both of them by surprise.

When Patsy finally proposed, it took both of them by surprise.

She had carried Mr Busby’s words with her for weeks. Months even.

Back to Owen and Katie's, where Owen had nodded knowingly at Mr Busby’s welcome reception, but had been rendered speechless when they recounted Enid’s unexpectedly mild reaction. He later admitted that he'd stayed in touch with Delia’s father, that they'd shared many a beer discussing the past and wishing things could have been different for Delia.

Back to London where they’d settled into domestic cohabitation so readily that it felt almost seamless.

Back to work where Trixie had smiled, mischievous, as Patsy told the story of Mr Busby’s acceptance and encouragement. “Spring. I’m telling you.”

Back to therapy, where Louise had laughed, delighted at the tale. “It sounds like the whole trip went remarkably well. How are you feeling about that Patsy?”

“Mostly relieved to be perfectly honest. I was… very nervous about meeting Owen, but that’s fine now. Not to mention how the Busby’s could have been. Although it’s not as if Delia’s mother was a ray of sunshine, but at least it all seems a bit more positive now.”

“And how are you feeling about what Mr Busby suggested?”

“I’m trying very hard not to think about it.”

“Why is that?”

“I’ve only recently broken off one engagement, at a very late stage in the relationship. I’m not sure I’m ready to be leaping into another just yet.”

For once, Louise had let her get away with that. Had moved onto other topics.

But Patsy couldn’t stop thinking about it.

She thought about it as she sat on the tube, watching women fawn over each other’s diamond rings, watching families wrangle kids and bags and pushers.

She thought about it as she lay in bed - listening to the soft sounds of Delia breathing, or as she cuddled the Welsh woman’s pillow, absorbing the scent of her and wishing she were there.

She thought about it as she walked with Phyllis and Perrito about the park, listening to the older woman as she lectured Patsy once again about not letting opportunities pass by.

She thought about it at work, watching expectant parents welcome their tiny new family members.

She thought about it in the shower, daydreaming and grateful that the hot water service was instant and limitless.

She thought about it as she waited in the foggy morning air for her coffee. As she ordered Chinese takeaway. As she folded laundry. As she patted Minerva absentmindedly whilst watching television.

The one thing Patsy refused to let herself do was think about it when she was with Delia.

Patsy wasn’t quite certain when thinking about it changed from wondering if it was a good idea, to contemplating how it would be nice one day, to being worried about how she was going to actually do it. It was gradual and inevitable and it kind of terrified her.

Because once she’d admitted to herself that she really wanted it, she had to start planning. And it was somewhat of a daunting prospect, proposing to the woman that she’d loved for most of her life. Who possessed her heart and soul so entirely.

 

* * *

 

 

It had been a long and arduous day of surgery the day it happened. She’d been called into an emergency c-section just moments before her shift was over, the birth not progressing after a solid twenty-four hours of labouring. The mother had been exhausted, the other parent beside herself with worry for her wife and their other infant at home with the in-laws.

Some mild bleeding meant the procedure took longer than usual, required them to remove the other parent from the room as they performed the repair work, retrieved the last of a placenta that proved more tenacious than most.

The baby had looked a little worse for wear from her long ordeal, a little squashed in the face and elongated in the head. But when Patsy checked her she’d been perfect, if understandably grumpy. She’d had the pleasure of handing over a small wriggling bundle into eager arms, smiled as the baby hiccupped. And relaxed.

“Hi there little one. I’m your Baba.”

Her tiny form had stilled as the woman spoke. Then burrowed closer into her baba’s arms and Patsy felt a sharp and happy pang radiate through her chest in response.

The happy feeling accompanied her as she changed out of soiled scrubs, on the tube ride home, on the short walk to their building. It followed her up the elevator and down the corridor, right up to their front door.

As she opened the door and looked inside, Patsy was assailed by a sense of deja vu so profound she almost took a step back. Delia was curled up on the sofa, Minerva in her lap and a book clasped in one hand. It was precisely the vision she’d had when she’d first signed the lease for the flat, compounded the happiness inside her until it was practically fizzing in her belly, bursting through her lungs.

Delia had looked up as the door opened, the smile coming to her lips so automatically, so subconsciously. Blue eyes met blue and Patsy just fell into Delia’s welcoming gaze and she knew, without a shred of doubt, that she wanted this always. Always and every day.

“Hey cariad. How did you go today?”

“Marry me.” It just sort of spilled out of her, no preparation, no preamble. No thought. Not even a proposal. It wasn’t a question. It was somewhere between a statement and a plea.

She hadn’t meant to say it. Not today. Not like this. Patsy could only stare at the smaller woman. And hope.

“What?” She’d never seen Delia so flummoxed. Dark brows drew down over narrowed eyes, the book sliding slowly from stiff fingers. “Pats, did you just..?”

“Delia. Marry me. Please.”

A gasp, and a disgruntled mew echoed in the flat as Minerva was unceremoniously ejected from Delia’s lap. The smaller woman scrambled to her feet, and they met halfway across the living room. Urgent.

“Pats, are you sure?”

“I’ve never been more sure.” And although she hadn’t set out to ask Delia to marry her just yet, or in quite this manner, she found herself speaking truths she hadn’t been ready for until this very moment. “I don’t want anything more than being able to spend every day of my life with you. We’ve got a life to catch up on. We’ve got a family to build. I love you and I’ve always loved you and that’s never going to change. We’ve got to grab hold of the life we have with both hands.”

Delia grinned at that. “Phyllis has been getting to you too?”

Her smile, infectious, almost overwhelmed the flutters building in Patsy’s stomach. But as the moment drew on Patsy’s nerves wrenched tighter and tighter. Waiting. Until she couldn’t bear it any longer.

“Deels?” Choked. “What do you say?”

“Of course I’ll marry you, you fool.”

It wasn’t the proposal either of them expected. There was no ring. No declaration on bended knee. No romantic candlelit dinner.

But it was honest and heartfelt and true and the fierce joy in Patsy’s heart could not be contained. It spilled out of her in waves as she pulled Delia forward, wrapped her arms around the Welsh woman’s waist as Delia wrapped her own arms around Patsy’s neck.

“You know, you’re going to owe Trixie a hundred quid…”

“Oh shush.”

And then there was no more talking as their lips met and Patsy commenced the most important thing she’d ever done, and never expected. The rest of her life. With Delia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here concludes the story. With the exception of an epilogue which I'll hopefully be able to get onto soon if school would just settle. the. hell. down.
> 
> Thanks to everyone who has read and commented and left kudos. I appreciate every single one. It's been an amazing ride letting this story come to life. Thanks for sharing it with me.


	30. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patsy and Delia get married.

There were many things about life that Patience Mount wished were different. Many petty inconveniences and small grievances that would be better if they could be overcome. And not a few episodes from her past that should have followed a different script.

But standing here, at the altar, waiting for her fiancee - the actual love of her life - to walk down the aisle, she could not honestly say that she regretted a single thing. One small deviation, one change in her path, might mean she was standing somewhere other than a tiny chapel in a dilapidated but charming old Poplar convent. And that was unthinkable.

Patsy glanced around the chapel, blue eyes cataloguing the guests waiting with varying level of patience for the ceremony to begin. Family, old friends, new friends and one or two nuns (surprisingly, friends of Phyllis’s). The congregation was rounded out by a tiny dog in a bow tie.

Perrito caught her looking at him, yipped in greeting. Was quickly and effectively hushed by a baleful glare and a curt hand gesture from his owner. Followed by a waved apology from Phyllis. Perrito looked so forlorn that Patsy’s heart clenched. She was about to step down and give him an encouraging scratch when a hand on her forearm halted any movement.

“Don’t even think about it Patsy. You’ll get fur all over your suit and neither of us will ever hear the end of it.” Owen held a solemn expression for a beat, before breaking into a grin. His hazel eyes sparkling.

“You’re right. I’d probably never live that down.”

“Rubbish. That girl would forgive you anything.”

It was strange, but somehow comforting, to be standing here with the only other person in the world who knew Delia as well as she. When they’d discussed who would stand with them at the wedding it seemed inevitable that Trixie and Owen would be there. And in the end it seemed fitting that it would only be those two.

Patsy tugged at her cuffs, shrugging her shoulders to settle the jacket in a more comfortable position.

“Stop fidgeting Patsy, you look fine.”

“I know, I’m just…”

“Nervous, I know. There’s no need to be though. Delia looks at you and sees the sun and the stars and that’s never going to change.”

Patsy turned to him, about to respond, when they were distracted by a demanding cry echoing through the chapel.

“Da. Da. Da!”

Rhys was standing on the second pew, clutching Katie’s shoulder for balance. She shushed him, shot Patsy an apologetic smile.

“Da!”

“Alright Rhys. Auntie Delia is going to be here any moment, you need to be quiet now.”

His tiny face crumpled, rebellious for a moment, before ceding to Katie’s request to sit back down.

Patsy caught sight of Mrs Busby’s disapproving look, fought with her expression to stop her exasperation from telegraphing itself. Caught Owen’s head shake.

But it all became irrelevant when the opening bars of Des’ree’s Kissing You sounded from the piano, and Patsy’s stomach clenched in anticipation, her heart beating a thunderous tattoo.

The doors at the rear of the chapel opened quietly, disgorging a beaming Trixie. The petite blonde paced carefully down the aisle, sparkling blue eyes conveying her pleasure. As she stepped up to the altar she squeezed Patsy’s hand, took her place opposite Owen.

Then finally - finally - Delia appeared. They had eschewed most of the conventions of a traditional wedding, but Mr Busby had been insistent that he wanted to walk his daughter down the aisle. He stood beside her now, smiling from ear to ear. Visibly bursting with pride as Delia looped an arm through his and they walked slowly forward.

Patsy registered all of this only in the periphery. Her eyes refused to acknowledge anything but Delia. The Welsh woman, clad in the antique-white dress they’d picked together, looked radiant and beautiful and perfect and Patsy wished she could capture this moment. Preserve it. Delia was walking towards her, finally, after all the times she’d walked away. After all the times they’d been separated. Delia was walking towards her and they were going to walk out of here together. Always.

Her heart ached with the wonder of it all.

The music swelled and intensified as they made their way past the crowd of smiling faces, the piano joined by a lone violin that highlighted the melody. Became delicate as they reached the front of the chapel where Bert kissed both Delia and Patsy fondly before claiming his seat in the front pew.

Later, Patsy couldn’t have described the ceremony. Could only be thankful that she’d taken care to memorise her lines because it all seemed to pass by in a blur. It felt like only moments later when the vicar, a pleasantly unassuming young man named Tom, announced that they were married.

Patsy and Delia stared at each other for a long, loaded moment. Soaked in the significance.

“Can you believe we finally made it here, Deels?” Whispered.

“I’m never letting you go Pats.” A pause. “Now hurry up and kiss me.”

Patsy had never been so happy to oblige.

 

* * *

 

Trixie had worked miracles for the reception, somehow convincing the manager of their favourite bar to let them hire the venue for the whole evening. Patsy suspected that had something to do with the fact that the guy had a long standing crush on her best friend, but she wasn’t about to start debating the ethics of that when it turned out so wonderfully.

They’d cleared the centre of the space for a dance floor, and somehow squeezed a swing band into a corner of the room. All those lessons had to be good for something. Knew they cut an impressive figure as they danced the first dance.

A tiny besuited figure had been waiting for them at the side of the dance floor as the song concluded. Reached his arms up.

“Me. Up.”

So they danced, somewhat awkwardly, with Rhys. He had laughed gleefully the whole time, his joy so infectious that Patsy felt like the smile on her face would never fade.

Her happiness burned warm and shining and bright in her chest.

Hours later, exhausted from dancing, stuffed with delicious food and possibly a drink too many, Patsy collapsed onto an armchair. Cast her eyes around the room and just absorbed the joyful atmosphere.

Bert had convinced Enid to join him on the dance floor, the pair swaying gently together. They were joined by Dr and Dr Turner. Patrick, having had at least three too many beers, was attempting to twirl Shelagh and getting himself horribly twisted, while Shelagh smiled up at him indulgently.

Trixie sat at the bar with Delia’s friend Barbara. They’d clicked instantly, chatting like old friends from the moment Delia had introduced them.

On the bar behind Trixie, Patsy could see the surprise gift of the evening. A delivery had arrived not long after they sat down for dinner. A huge bunch of rainbow dyed roses. The accompanying card had been terse, but they very fact of its arrival had shocked Patsy.

> _My congratulations to you Patience. I wish you and Delia every happiness._

She’d dutifully sent her father an invitation, never expecting a response, let alone an arrangement of flowers.

 

* * *

 

The muted click of heels alerted her to Delia’s approach. Small hands clasped her shoulders, a kiss deposited on the top of her head.

“Hey you.” Could not have masked the affection in her voice if she tried.

“Hey cariad. What are sitting over here by yourself for?”

Delia stepped to the front of the chair. Eyed Patsy’s reclining form before shrugging and climbing carefully onto Patsy’s lap, letting her dress fall around both of them. Patsy wrapped her arms around Delia’s compact form. Sighed in contentment when a dark head snuggled against Patsy’s shoulder.

“I just needed a moment to catch my breath.”

“Da wore you out, did he?”

“Something like that.”

They sat quietly for a long stretch of minutes. Peaceful.

“Pats?”

“Hmmn?”

“Can you actually believe that we pulled this off?”

“It’s starting to sink in yes.”

“Did you ever believe we’d get here?”

“Eleven years ago, I would not have said this was possible. Twelve months ago I would not have said this was possible. Now…” A pause. “Now you feel so inevitable that I can’t believe we were ever apart.”

Delia nestled impossibly closer, her arms threading around Patsy’s waist. Lips pressed to the pulse point in Patsy’s neck.

“Pats?”

“Hmmn?”

“I love you so much that it feels like you’re a part of me. It’s like… there’s no me and you any more. There’s only me _and_ you. Does that… does that make any sense?”

“It makes perfect sense.”

And it did. They fit together so seamlessly that for the first time in her life Patsy felt whole. She felt complete and content and she could imagine no conceivable future that didn’t contain Delia.

“I love you too, Delia. I always have, and I always will.”

They’d exchanged vows earlier that day, declared themselves publicly in front of friends and family, and yet this, right now, in the quiet corner of a bar, felt somehow more significant.

Delia sat up, used her not inconsiderable strength to drag Patsy into an upright position. A small hand grasped Patsy’s own, brought fingers together so that their rings aligned.

“You are mine and I am yours.”

This time, when they kissed, Patsy felt the connection deep into her soul. Knew Delia felt it too when blue eyes snapped open and locked with blue and the world faded around them.

“Forever.”

It was a benediction and a promise and Patsy wasn’t even sure which one of them spoke.

It didn’t matter.

They had forever to figure it out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now we're officially done.
> 
> This chapter was hard to write. It's kinda sad to let this story go. I've enjoyed writing it (or more to the point letting it reveal itself to me) very much indeed.
> 
> Thanks again to everyone who joined me for this journey.
> 
> And before you ask I'm pretty sure I'm going to want to revisit these two at some point in the future. I predict there'll be a baby related one shot in the works.


End file.
